What to Live For
by Jerrath92
Summary: He lives for himself, left to die in a land of the undead, and the one person he thought would choose his side has abandoned him. Life is hell and Merle Dixon's just another part of it. Rated M for gore, violence, and language. Daryl 3rd character. I appreciate reviews!
1. Chapter 1: Homecoming

**Now don't tell me that you haven't wondered at least ONCE what happened to Merle. After watching the episode "Chupacabra" I was incredibly disappointed that Merle didn't actually come back but rather just appear in Daryl's hallucination, so I decided to make myself a story that gives him a bit more credit. So ask yourself, who is Merle Dixon?**

_He closed his hand around the belt, sweating in between his knuckles and tasting blood on his lips as he bit into them in concentration despite the mind-boggling moans coming from just thirty feet away. The belt looped onto the handle of the saw and he froze; if he moved too suddenly he might screw this up. Very carefully he began to pull and the saw dragged centimeter by centimeter behind the belt. He exercised caution because if the saw fell away, there was always the chance that he might retrieve it again, but then again, the geeks might get to him before he could. If the chains on that door didn't hold…_

_He flung the belt aside as the saw came within reach and immediately he set to hacking at the chain link between his handcuffs. Even before he started, he knew it was going to be a useless waste of time fiddling with the thing. A saw with broken teeth couldn't very well saw through such strong metal as this—but it would definitely saw through skin, flesh, and bone. He had felt resigned to this ever since Officer Friendly chained him to the rusted pipe. He had a deep down gut feeling that no one would unlock the cuffs and that he'd be left to rot in hell or else make the sacrifice. But damn it, did it _have_ to be his right hand? He was good with both, better with his right._

_Hell._

_He placed the saw to his wrist, as close as he could to his palm to avoid taking off anymore than he needed to. Oh, it was going to hurt like hell, but the geeks had already seen, smelled, and heard him, so what difference did it make if he screamed his dirty black guts out? Making a promise to repay the favor to Officer Friendly and all of them who had left him on the roof in the middle of God-forsaken nowhere, he cut in and exhaled sharply. The cut was just that, a cut, and wouldn't do him any good at all. He had to suck it up or face starvation and death. _

_Not for this tough son of a bitch._

_Grinding his teeth together he sawed away. Blood dribbled down his arm, warm, and wet. His left hand was clumsy yet steady as he watched the saw teeth cut through his skin and narrow out a crevice to the bone. Something hot ran into his eyes, but whether or not it was sweat or tears that came _from_ his eyes, he didn't know nor give a rat's ass. He saw the bone marrow, surprisingly white and small in comparison to his thick, muscular wrist. The flesh underneath was dark red and gooey, obscuring his target and he wiped it away irritably. He was nearly there now, and his own damn blood wasn't going to get in his way. With a gasp of pain he cut through the bone and his hand dangled by a few strips of stringy flesh. One final cut and the hand fell free onto the ground._

_The pain was either so intense that he couldn't quite feel it or else he really was some sort of super human whom pain simply didn't affect—he liked to think the latter. Swallowing hard, he slipped his wrist (now a bleeding stump) out of the cuff and cradled the stump to his chest, sobbing and thinking, _Now what—_now_ what?

_He stood up, wobbly at first, but gathered his wits and instructed himself to remain calm in time to cauterize the wound. That was the first step, after that he'd let off some steam on a couple of geeks and then get the hell out of this ghost town and go—where?_

_Anywhere._

_He'd hotwire himself a car and drive until he ran out of gas. He'd take what he needed and not let anyone tell him he had to do otherwise. Hell, he was free to go wherever he wanted, no longer tied down to that survivor group. Good riddance, anyway. He didn't need them and they most certainly didn't need nor indeed want him; otherwise they would have taken him back with them, right?_

Daryl, though, what about Daryl?

_Argh, the boy was grown up enough to know how to deal with his own problems. He was a pretty good shot with that crossbow of his and a hard ass, if anything._

_And besides, he wasn't no damn babysitter to his baby brother either. He was already twenty-two when he was given full custody of the runt and he'd had to watch Daryl even before that when their alcoholic father was holed up in jail or some place. But now he was _free_ of that burden, at forty-seven he was finally _free_._

_If he happened to cross paths with Daryl somewhere down the line, he'd say hi and then keep on walking…and if Officer Friendly was there too, well, _Merle Dixon's comin' for you.

And there was Officer Friendly himself standing beside that chestnut tree and talking to the bastard who had dropped the key to the handcuffs down the damn drain. They had a nice set up going on with two tents, that old man Dale's trailer, a barn, and a two story house. There were definitely some people missing since Merle had last seen, but that wasn't what bothered him. It was the fact that he had used his last round to cut down a walker and now only had the pump action shotgun as a bludgeoning weapon. He couldn't shoot Officer Friendly from here and even if he could, the others would be on him like bug guts to a window before he could get ten yards. He was fast and still muscular, but pickings had been slim and he had lost some considerable weight since the rooftop. His stump was now duct taped to a stabbing knife which he cleaned regularly (but man, it was embarrassing as hell that the only duct tape he could find was hot pink).

Deciding that he couldn't just stand there glaring like an idiot, he finally came to terms with the situation and knew how he had to play his cards. Waltz in, the prodigal survivor, and offer up help in return for staying a few nights. Then he'd do away with Officer Friendly in the dead of night and be on his way. Simple plan, easy to remember. He gave himself an A plus.

"Walker, there's a walker behind you Rick!"

It sounded like Dale yelling in that annoyingly calm voice, warning someone, and then Merle realized that Dale was pointing his rifle at _him._ Dale thought _he_ was the walker. Damn, someone needed to get that old man some glasses.

Officer Friendly turned in his direction, going for the pistol he kept close at hand. Shane—or at least, it looked like Shane, though with no hair it was difficult to tell—came hobbling (had he injured himself?) up from the house with a crowbar and then T-Dog joined them, grabbing a yellow bat. They were coming to beat the hell out of him again.

He raised his left hand with the rifle and cried out, "Don't shoot, popinjays, iss juss ol' Merle and I ain't gonna bite no one!"

He saw them skid to a halt in the tall grass and then shouted, "Merle? _Merle Dixon?_"

"How many Merle's you idiots know? 'Course iss me, I said so, didn't I?" he replied in irritation, keeping his hand up as he walked towards them. It gave him some satisfaction to see that they all looked rather worried and why shouldn't they? They knew they'd left him and their conscious told them that they had hell to pay. Soon.

"Hot damn, it _is_ Merle," yelled Shane. "Dale, hold your fire!" Shane turned back to Merle, not quite lowering his crowbar, but looking slightly more welcoming. "Merle, you tough, stubborn son of a bitch, where'd you come from?"

Merle spat out a fountain from between his teeth indifferently and rested the rifle across his shoulders. "I cut m'self loose, no thanks to none've you, and I survived. I drove and drove till I ran outta cars to hotwire and then I walked and here I am, pretty as the mornin' and bad-natured as ever."

"Merle," said Officer Friendly cautiously, "before you come any further, let me be the first to apologize for what happened. We went back for you, but you were already gone. We looked for you, but frankly, Atlanta's a big city-,"

"Save it, pal, I ain't in the mood. What I am is hungry as hell and juss as tired. I ain't lookin' to stay more'n a few days and then I'll be on my way again."

"But Merle, that's crazy," said Shane, "in your condition you need to stick with us-,"

"My condition, huh?" repeated Merle, raising his right stump with the knife threateningly. "I've been doin' just fine in _my condition_, thank you. No, y'see, when I join up with people like you, that's when I get screwed over. Last time I stuck with y'all I lost a perfectly good hand and if I stay this time, I might lose somethin' else, somethin' I value more'n a hand. When I'm on my own I do pretty damn well, so you just leave me be and then I'll be gone juss like before."

"Well, if it's what you want, Merle, we're not gonna stop you, but we will ask you to consider staying," said Officer Friendly.

"You can ask all y'want, I ain't stayin' with a bunch've backstabbin' ingrates. Now, point me to the chow and leave me the hell alone."

"There's food in the house, man," said T-Dog nervously.

Merle gave him a wicked grin. "Yeah, dass right, you'd better be sweatin' like a stuck Irish pig, brother."

"Just do us a favor and take it easy, huh, Merle?" asked Officer Friendly quietly as Merle turned to walk up the path towards the house.

"Do you—do _you_ a favor?" laughed Merle. "Naw, how 'bout you do _me_ a favor, Officer Friendly, and shut the hell up 'fore I take that pistol and put a nice new hole in that trap o'yours?"

"Alright, Merle, we understand you're upset, but Rick's just trying to make it up to you, is all," said Shane with a bit of authority.

"Rick, huh?" said Merle, looking to the man who had chained him to the pipe. "Yeah…"

Without another word he strode up the gravel path, catching a glimpse of Lori and Glenn gaping open-mouthed at him. He ignored them all, feeling like a triumphant hero of some sort, and stalked up the steps through the wide open screen door. Inside he made a right and then a left and found himself in the kitchen where three women were busying themselves by scraping together a snack for the workers outside. He recognized two of them—Carol with the shaved head, and Andrea, the blonde one he had tried his luck on the last time they'd met. She looked older, somehow, even from the back, which wasn't too bad of a view.

"Don't suppose y'all got some beer 'round here, huh?" he asked.

He grinned as Carol dropped the knife she was holding and Andrea whirled around in alarm. The other reddish-brown haired woman looked curiously over her shoulder.

"M-Merle?" gasped Andrea, going pale in the face.

"Dass right, baby. I'm back. Ain't you glad to see me?"

"Where's Rick and Shane?" asked Carol anxiously, glancing out the window.

"Argh, don' worry 'bout them. They told me to come in here when I said I's hungry. So, where's the grub?"

"Well, I don't—I mean, there's not-," stuttered Andrea, whom he was pleased to see was certainly flustered with his appearance. Her eyes darted to his stump which he held for her to examine, but she only took a nervous step back until her hips hit the sink. "I—I'll fix you something to eat, what would you like?"

"Hell, don' matter to me none, but I'm really hankerin' for somethin' stronger'n water. Got beer?"

"I—I'm not sure—Maggie?" Andrea appealed to the woman beside her who shook her head.

"My dad won't let beer in the house."

"Damn shame," grumbled Merle, sinking in to one of the chairs at the table. "So, what's new?" he asked conversationally. "I noticed a lotta people ain't here no more. Got bitten, did they?"

"Some of them," said Andrea, not looking at him as she pulled a slice of bread from the cabinet. "Camp was attacked and we lost—people. Jim was bitten and we left him. Jacqui died and Ed was killed and Morales took his family to Birmingham. And right now Carol's daughter Sophia is missing."

"What 'bout that lady Grimes's son what's-his-name?" asked Merle as Andrea set a plate with a ham sandwich and sliced apple in front of him with a cup of water.

"Rick's son Carl was shot in a hunting accident, but he's going to be okay," said Maggie, continuing on with the dishes.

A light went on in Merle's head. The boy was Officer Rick Friendly's _son_ and he had been shot.

"That leaves two still missin' on my count," said Merle, biting into his sandwich with relish. He caught the scared look that passed between Andrea and Carol.

"Merle?"

Turning around in his seat, Merle saw Daryl standing in the doorway. He had bandages around his waist and head and looked very pale, but there was disbelief etched into his face. He leaned against the doorframe for support, sagging down and Carol rushed to him to hold him up.

"Well, what'n the hellfire happened to you?" asked Merle, returning to his sandwich.

"He fell," said Andrea, watching Merle closely for reaction. "Landed on a branch rooted upright and it went through. And he hit his head too."

"Never wouldda taken you for a klutz, lil' brother," laughed Merle, washing down the rest of the bread with a swig of water and smacking his lips loudly. "You c'mon and take a seat now. I got somethin' I wanna discuss with you, boy."

Carol and Andrea helped Daryl sit down in the chair next to Merle and then beckoned Maggie from the room, leaving the brothers alone. Daryl closed his eyes, wincing as he touched his head. Merle leaned over and smacked the other side.

"Buck up, Darylina. What's an uprooted branch to havin' to saw off your own hand?" He slapped his stump down on the table for emphasis and Daryl stared hard at it before answering.

"Nice touch, that pink duct tape is, shows off your feminine side. But that wasn't my fault and you know it. I went back for you and all I saw was your hand lying in a pool of blood. What was I s'posed to think?"

"You wasn't s'posed to _think_, you numb wits, you was s'posed to go lookin' for your big brother," snapped Merle, inhaling an apple slice.

"I knew you was alive, but I didn't know where you'd gone, so there weren't much else I could do."

"You chose to get comfy with all them traitors and weaklings out there, that's what you did. Boy, if ever I was more ashamed of you than I am now, I don't remember it. I knew you'd be needin' me and lookee here, you're pale as death while I'm as flushed as a straw'bry."

"And twice as ugly," muttered Daryl.

Merle bawled his only fist. "Don't you smart mouth me, boy. Remember who it was that brought you up. You owe _me_, not them double crossin' bastards."

"I owe you nothin'," snarled Daryl. "You never took care've me. You didn't give a damn 'bout me. I raised myself and I've survived 'cuz of it. I didn't need you then and I don't need you now, so you can clear out."

"Maybe the reason I didn' give a shit 'bout you was 'cuz you was juss the runt Dad said you was. Still are. And you think that them bastards give any more've a shit 'bout you, huh? They'll leave you to rot, juss like they left me."

"You deserved it," said Daryl savagely. "They trust me and I've earned it."

"Watch your tongue, boy!" shouted Merle.

"Call me boy again and I'll take your other hand," threatened Daryl, standing abruptly and going green. "You can't come back and start tellin' me who to trust and love, 'cuz you don't understand the first thing about either of those! My life was better when you wasn't around, so get the hell out and this time _stay_ out!"

Merle grabbed Daryl's arm, digging his fingernails deep into his brother's skin. "You'll mind me, son, or someone's gonna get hurt. While I'm here, _you—will—mind—me_."

"If anything happens to them, you'll be sorrier than you were when you had to cut off your own worthless hand, Merle. Mark my words. I've got a new family now and I ain't lettin' you nowhere near 'em. So piss off."

Merle threw Daryl away from him and shouted, pointing a finger, "And you wonder _why_ I never showed you any respect? Iss 'cuz you're stupid and ignorant, juss like your momma! See if that ain't your undoin', lil' brother! You'll wish I was on your side in the end!"

"Go to hell!"

Andrea rushed in between the two brothers and wrapped an arm around Daryl's waist. "Come on, Daryl, let's get you back to bed."

"Get off me, I ain't goin', not till I've slugged that son've a bitch!"

"Daryl! If you try to swing a punch you'll open up your stitches, now come _on_, or I'll have Hershel put you out of it. Come on."

Daryl shot Merle a look of pure hatred before allowing Andrea to lead him away. Merle sat back down heavily in his seat and skewered a slice of apple viciously on the tip of his knife. Isn't this what he had expected? His own brother turned on him for—for _them_. Now he knew there was nothing and no one except himself to live for. Now he was truly alone.

"Merle?"

Andrea had returned. "Um, there's a loft upstairs that you can sleep in if you want to lay down for a while. You don't have to help out or anything, but we sort of need the kitchen clear so that we can get started on dinner."

Merle didn't move. He felt disgusted and cheated and utterly lost. There had always been a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind that when and if he saw Daryl again his brother would choose his side. Well, that certainly hadn't worked out like how he had intended.

Andrea slid her hand over his arm to take his plate and he grabbed her wrist, though not as harshly as he had done to Daryl. He didn't look at her, but kept his grip firm so that she had to stay and listen. "Where's your sister?"

"I don't really want to talk about it," said Andrea uncomfortably, tugging slightly at her wrist so that he would let go.

"Naw, I seen it your face, you _need_ to talk 'bout it, juss like I need to talk 'bout what's got me riled. Sit down and tell ol' Merle what happened to her."

Andrea bit her lip, holding back tears. "I—I can't. It's still too soon."

"S'always gonna be too soon 'till you git it off your chest, honey. Tell me." He steered her into Daryl's empty seat with his hand still on her wrist.

Andrea gulped, lowering her gaze to the crumbs on his plate. She took a deep breath as if she were steeling herself for the task ahead. Finally, she began, "It was a walker. It bit her and I had to shoot her. A few days later I had the chance to commit suicide, but Dale wouldn't let me, so now I'm stuck living in this hellhole. I have no one to live for, not even myself. Amy was all I had left and now that I don't have her, what _do_ I have? Don't say life, because that doesn't mean a damn thing to me if I have to live it alone. See, I'm not like you and Daryl; I need someone else, because what is the point of living if you have to do it alone? I could have been with my sister and escaped, but Dale took that from me and now I can't take my life. I had a ready-made opportunity and now I don't, so I can't do it. I want to die, but I'm afraid to. Can you understand that?"

Merle cocked his head to the side, trying to read her bright and yet pale blue yes. "Naw, I ain't too sure I can, but I get what you mean' bout livin' 'lone. Thing is, I prefer it that way. Now I can live for myself."

"And are you happy with that? What do you have to look forward to every day, Merle? Do you wake up and feel inner joy that you get to see someone's face whom you love, get to talk to that person and know that there is someone left for you to treasure, or do you wake up and wonder what you're going to eat for the day and where you're going to piss? Do you see what I'm getting at? Life is _not_ worth living if it's just you because whether you want to believe it or not, you'll get tired of yourself and wish for company and if that company isn't the one you want to be with, there's just no point to keep going.

That's why Daryl had to let you go. He didn't want to and he tried not to show it, but we all could see. He had real grief for you and held onto the hope that you would make it, but even with one good hand still left, your chances seemed slim. He would wait up at night just watching the woods or the road, hoping to see you show up somewhere and when we moved on, so did he. He _had_ to let you go and take hold of someone else because he truly thought you were gone. He may seem like he hates you, but it's only because he's trying to hide the fact that he's actually relieved. You're his brother—all _he _has, and even though you put him down, he sees past that and forgives you for not being there for him."

Merle let go of Andrea's wrist. "And juss how the hell d'you know that?"

Andrea took his dishes and stood up. "Because I was never there for Amy, but she forgave me because in the end, I was right beside her."

Merle frowned to himself, watching Andrea clean his plate and cup until finally moving upstairs to the loft she had mentioned for a well-earned nap.


	2. Chapter 2: The Riverbed

Since his argument with Daryl, Merle tried his best to avoid his brother; if there was revenge to be had, he'd need all of his strength and couldn't waste it on the runt. He didn't feel the need to help out with any sort of chores, nor did he offer to go searching for the little girl Sophia when Rick and Shane went around asking for volunteers. Andrea strongly hinted that he should go and speak to Hershel the owner of the house about his stay. He didn't take kindly to this idea at all, but since he was living in the man's house for at least a couple of days, he figured it was the least he could do. Afterwards, he decided that _the least he could do_ was a very bad idea.

Hershel hadn't been enthusiastic about meeting him at all. He had started up something of a staring contest with Merle as if trying to read him and asked exactly why there was a knife with pink duct tape connected to his stump. Merle hadn't been very courteous when he replied either and this was probably what caused the old man to give him a very soft, very serious warning about violence on his property, not that Merle gave it much thought. He thanked Hershel for his hospitality in a very sarcastic manner indeed before stalking off to explore the surrounding area. On his way he stopped by the trailer on which Dale was sitting atop with his rifle laying across his lap and a pair of binoculars strapped around his neck.

"Got any shells for a Winchester 97?" asked Merle, swinging his pump action shotgun in his left hand.

Dale peered down at him and then his gun before replying. "If we do, they're in the closet in the trailer on the top shelf. Help yourself."

Smiling to himself, Merle went inside the trailer, thinking that Dale certainly was very trusting and a damn fool at that. He found the box of bullets easily enough and set it down on the table to rummage through it for the kind he needed. Presently he saw the door open and Andrea came inside with a gritty Smith and Wesson 3913 in her hands. She saw that he was already searching through the box of bullets and stopped awkwardly.

"Oh, um, sorry, I didn't know you were in here."

"Well, it ain't like iss the gents room, baby. 'F you're lookin' for some shells for that Ladysmith of yours, come on in, I ain't stoppin' you. But if you want some advice, I'd say to clean up that peashooter or iss gonna rust and then you'll be right in the shit, if you know what I'm sayin'."

"Yeah, I just haven't really gotten around to it," said Andrea, snatching up a rag and beginning to scrub furiously while avoiding making eye contact with him. Merle let out a dry laugh as he continued to search the box of bullets.

"Do I make you nervous, baby?"

Andrea kept her eyes down and gave an indifferent shrug. "I guess I'm just wondering if you've forgiven us for leaving you or if you're planning on slitting our throats in our sleep. I'm not going to try and apologize because you won't accept it, but it was never our intention to leave you. We were caught up in the moment and adrenaline was running." She dared to look up and added, "But I _am_ sorry, I really am."

Merle considered touching her wrist again, but thought better of it and gave her a crooked grin. "Well, lemme put it this way, bright eyes, if I was out for revenge, you'd be the one who wouldn't have to worry 'bout nothin'."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or if it's reassuring," said Andrea in puzzlement.

"Well, I'll leave you guessin'," said Merle mischievously before finding two bullets and leaving the trailer. Outside Shane was waiting for him.

"We still need someone to cover a section of the grid for Sophia and we have two people to spare. I'm _asking_ you if you'd like to volunteer along with Andrea. She should be pickin' out some spare bullets now. I was gonna send Dale with her, but they ain't on the best of terms at the moment."

"And what makes you think the two of us would get along any better?" asked Merle, flicking a speck of dirt off the end of his knife.

"I don't think, I'm just hopin'. No one's forcin' you to go, but if you do then you'll be goin' with her, if it ain't too much trouble."

Merle considered it; if he went and took Andrea along he might just find out what had changed out, find out why she seemed so different to how she was before. It was an opportunity too tempting to miss. Slinging his shotgun over his shoulder, he leaned against the trailer, waiting for Andrea to come out as Shane called to her. When she emerged she was a holding a shining pistol, her original, just cleaned up.

"I'd like you and Merle to go down to the river near where Daryl was yesterday and see if you can find any other traces of Sophia," said Shane.

"Merle and me," said Andrea. She didn't look thrilled, but she didn't look completely upset. Tentatively, she turned to Merle and asked, "Is that fine with you?"

Merle raised and lowered one shoulder. "Makes no never mind to me. You know how to shoot, don't you?"

"Oh, she knows how, alright," muttered Shane.

Andrea shot him a filthy look and corrected, "I know how, but my technique is a little off."

"Nothin' that can't be fixed," said Merle dismissively. "Well, c'mon then, less git goin'."

Merle had to admit, Andrea was good company; she didn't talk and she walked quietly. It was rather peaceful making their way through the woods down to the riverbed that Daryl had given then directions to (or at least, he'd given them to Andrea while Merle stayed clear of the house). They knew that they were in the right spot when they spotted two walkers lying on the rocks a little above the creek while crows pecked at their twice-dead corpses and flies buzzed excitedly around their exposed flesh. The smell was incredible and Andrea gagged a little, placing the back of her hand to her mouth.

"You gonna puke?" Merle asked her in amusement. She looked at him with resentment and shook her head, gulping.

"Doesn't it bother _you_?" she asked incredously.

"Naw, Daryl's diapers were worse'n that," said Merle, kicking at the walker whose face had been caved in and then skewered with a stick. "Hot damn, he did this with a stick?"

Andrea stayed back, tapping her pistol anxiously against her leg. "Come on, let's move further up river."

"I ain't done lookin' yet," said Merle. "And another thing, I don't think Daryl _fell and hit his head_ any more'n I think birds can fly outta my ass, so mind tellin' me what really happened?"

"It was an accident," said Andrea instantly.

"So you shot him," concluded Merle.

"N-no, not exactly. He came out of the woods stumbling and looking like a walker with blood all down his front. I thought he was one of them and I went for a head shot, but it just grazed him. Hershel said he'd be fine."

"Shame you missed him," said Merle. "And you say you ain't never fired a rifle b'fore?" Andrea nodded slowly and Merle nodded approvingly. "Well, if you grazed him at that distance by accident, I'm anxious to see how good y'are at a shorter distance. How good are you with that peashooter o'yours?"

Andrea dropped her head in embarrassment. "I guess you could say that I suck."

"I could say that if I seen you use it. C'mon, pretend I'm a walker and aim at me." Andrea blinked and he barked at her, "I'm comin' at you fast and you ain't got time to think, draw, damn it!" She raised her 3913 in typical shooters stance from her torso up, but her lower body was all out of line. Merle shook his head. "Neargh, you look ridiculous. See how your knees are locked and close t'gether? What if you had a bigger weapon with some kick to it and you was standin' like that? You'd knock yourself on your ass. Naw, you gotta loosen up and spread out your legs a bit." As if to prove his point he smacked her leg with his palm. "C'mon, wider, and yeah, I mean that in an uncom'ftable way."

She spread her stance a little wider and bent her knees slightly. Merle put his hands on her hips and turned her body slightly right to match her dominant hand. "Good, now hold your right wrist with your left to steady it. Get a good look at y'self—and now stand up straight and put the pistol down." When she had broken character he checked that her safety was on and returned to where he had stood before. "Now, do like y'done b'fore, but without my help. Go!"

She dropped into her stance, mimicking her motions from when Merle had showed her. Merle clapped once. "Fast learner?" he guessed.

"Yeah," said Andrea, looking quite thrilled.

"My type o'woman," commented Merle, which wiped the smile right off of her face. She tucked her pistol into the front of her jeans. Merle motioned for her to follow him and they trekked up river, looking for any sign of Sophia. They hadn't been walking for fifteen minutes when Merle threw out his right arm to stop her. Just ahead of them knelt a walker digging ravenously into what looked like the remains of a muskrat. It's back was faced towards them, which was probably the only reason why it hadn't noticed them.

"Should I-?" began Andrea, but Merle shook his head.

"Naw, y'ain't got a silencer and if there's any more've them 'round they'll hear the shot. Let me deal with it." He traced the tip of his knife with his finger.

"You're going to sneak up on it?" said Andrea in a sort of fascinated horror.

"You betcha, baby." And with that he crept forward, light on his feet and pumped full of adrenaline, not to mention the need to show off. In four giant strides he had come up behind it and dispatched it with a quick jab to its skull, but he didn't stop there. He struck again and again until contaminated blood began to spout out and he had to back away. Licking sweat off of his upper lip, he spat on the corpse and turned to Andrea.

Then he saw the walkers behind her.

There were six of them and they were stumbling in Andrea's direction as quickly as their disoriented legs could carry them.

"Andrea, move!" he hollered, pointing.

Andrea glanced over her shoulder, gasped, and ran towards him, drawing her pistol and taking the safety off. There was panic in her eyes despite the fact that the rest of her face remained passive. She grabbed onto his wrist with her left hand. "What do we do? There could be dozens more of them, right?"

"Right. We'll have to take 'em out as quietly as we can. Find a sharp rock or stick and git b'hind me. I'll throw 'em down and then you bury whatever y'got in their skulls. Do a double tap, even triple if you need to, but do it quick. Only shoot if I tell you to, unnerstand?"

Andrea nodded but asked him in a whisper, "You're not going to leave me, are you?" He looked sideways at her to see if she was serious. She was.

"Just git mad as hell and do what you have to, darlin'."

The first walker, a former teenage boy reached them first and Merle intercepted it, slicing his knife across its face and throwing it to the ground. He heard a loud crunch that sounded as if Andrea had just smashed its skull with a rock. The second and third walkers came in fast; one grabbed his left forearm and the other went for his jacket. He dug his right elbow into one walker's nose and plunged the knife into the other's eyes socket. The one whose nose he had driven into its brain he gave a hard shove where it hit the ground and Andrea brought a jagged rock down two times onto its forehead.

"Keep it up, baby!" encouraged Merle, preparing himself for the next three walkers…only three was now _a lot more_. They were spread out along the river bed, seventeen, maybe more and they were quickening their pace.

_Oh, we in some deep shit now_.

Merle jogged backwards into Andrea and hoisted her up by the arm. "C'mon, baby doll, iss time we split!" The two ran further up river, the moans of the dead urging them to go faster. "Get that peashooter ready!"

"Merle, we have to reach higher ground. They can't climb!"

"My ass they can't!" shouted Merle, but knew she had a point and spotted a section where they might be able to hoist themselves up onto an outcrop—if they could get to it. He gained a few feet on Andrea and stopped beside the outcrop. "I'll give you a leg up, c'mon, now!" Andrea put one hand against the smooth stone surface of the outcrop and the other on Merle's shoulder as he cupped his hand and positioned his stump underneath it for support to form a foothold for her. He lifted her weight straight up and she was able to grab a hanging vine and pull herself to safety. Merle faced the oncoming walkers with a feeling of dread, wondering how in the hell he had landed himself in such a situation _again_.

"Merle, catch the vine and I'll pull you up!" called Andrea, tossing a line of vine over the side.

"_You_ lift _me_?" cackled Merle. "Honey bunch, you may got more muscle'n Daryl, but you ain't got 'nough to lift me nowhere."

"You grab that damn vine, you bastard!" she spat.

_ Eh, what the hell?_

Merle coiled his hand and arm around the vine and felt her pull to the point where he felt sure that the vine would snap…but it didn't. He felt his feet leave the ground as she put everything she had into pulling him. When he was a good four feet off the ground he dug his boot into a small crevice, taking his weight off of the vine, and grabbed hold of a neighboring one. Andrea reached out and took a fistful of his shirt, reeling him in and then hauled him onto the outcrop.

"Not bad, city girl," he commented as they watched the walkers reach up stupidly for them. His heart thumped madly against his chest as he spotted more hulking figures on their level of vision coming in from the left. "Aw, shit."

Andrea saw where he was looking, cursed, and stood up. "It's really steep here; if we climb we can come right out of the canyon."

"Yeah, 'cuz your last idea worked out really well, missy," Merle grumbled. "But if that's what we gotta do, then less do it, and this time I'm goin' first."

The climb was hell on their muscles and the only way they managed it was by forming a sort of system where one would secure a firm stance and then pull the other up. When at last they were near the top Merle hauled himself up over the edge and heard the sound of falling earth debris in unison with Andrea's scream. Looking over the edge he saw that she was dangling by one hand onto a branch and her grip was failing fast. She blinked up at him as dirt fell into her eyes and she understood exactly what he was thinking.

"I wouldn't blame you if you left me," she said quietly, "but if you're going to, could you please just shoot me in the head?"

In full fear, Andrea also had acceptance on her face and he had to admit, it was rather beautiful. Not just hot and fine or pretty like chicks on the covers of magazines, but _beautiful_.

"You know I don't owe you one damn thing, bright eyes," he told her. "But I'm only this far up the hillside 'cuz you got some fine muscle on you, woman. You didn't owe me nothin' and you still don't—not yet." He closed his hand around her wrist and pulled her up, his muscles screaming after all the exertion he had put on them. His grip was sweaty and as was hers, but with one giant grunt he rolled onto his back and she came up over the edge, landing on top of him. Her weight drove the breath out of him and he exhaled sharply. She froze in place, locking eyes with him directly and seeming unable to move an inch.

"Nice landing," he told her, feeling a grin spread across his lips.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Well, you gonna say somethin' or you gonna get up?" he asked her. She tried to speak again when they heard a moan and saw a walker standing just feet away. Merle pushed Andrea off of him and kicked her hard in the stomach so that she was out of harm's way and so the walker went for him first. It bore down on him with jaws wide open and he only managed to hold it at bay by burrowing his knife into its neck and punching it repeatedly in the face.

"Shoot!" he yelled, feeling his knuckles bruise. "Andrea, shoot it!"

A bullet shot rang out and less than a split second later Merle felt something plow deep into his right shoulder. The walker's blood splattered over his clothes and it collapsed on top of him, though he didn't find it nearly as attractive as when Andrea had done it. He elbowed the thing off of him and sat up. Andrea hurried over to him in a rush of apology.

"Merle, I'm so sorry! I only had one shot and your shoulder was in the way—I didn't mean to!"

"Ain't no problem," said Merle through his teeth as he examined the wound. "Juss a flesh wound. Nice shot, baby, now help me up." Andrea slung his arm over her shoulders and he staggered to his feet, wincing. "I think we've looked enough for Miss Sophia today, huh? I say we leave now."

"It's my fault, I'm sorry," Andrea murmured. "I'm just a screw up; everything always goes wrong when I'm around."

"Not everythin'. Several things went right 'cuz you was here, but you'd better shut up with that bitchin' or I'll have to kiss you to close your mouth."

That shut her up.


	3. Chapter 3: A Change Coming On

**I'd love to know your opinion so far—drop me a line if you have time!**

Merle let Andrea do the talking when they hobbled up to the homestead and Rick, Shane, and Lori came running out to them. Shane went to fetch some medical supplies and water while Lori steered Merle onto a tree stump seat to examine his wound. She shook her head at Andrea.

"I think you've got a think for shooting the Dixons, Andrea. I'd say this was a lucky shot."

"Luck had nothin' to do with it," said Merle as he took credit for teaching Andrea how to properly handle a pistol. "She knew what she was doin—_ow_! Watch where you're pokin' your fingers, woman!" he griped at Lori as she felt the bullet hole.

"Hold still," commanded Lori shortly, resting his arm on top of a set of towels. She began to mop of the blood as Shane returned with supplies and Hershel and the old man set about to sewing the bullet holes shut. He wasn't exactly gentle while he sealed up the wound either, which was why Merle swore loudly and Rick and Shane each had to rest a cautious hand on his shoulders.

"Easy there, Merle," said Shane.

"Screw you, it _hurts_, man! He's diggin' that needle in like I'm a damn pincushion!"

"Oh, shut up, you big baby," said Andrea. "You sawed off your own hand, didn't you?"

Merle scowled at her and she immediately recoiled. "Alright, alright, I'm sor-,"

"Don't you start apologizin' agin."

"Young man, if you don't sit still and hush up I'll have to either knock you out or sew your lips shut," warned Hershel.

"_Young man_?" Merle repeated furiously.

"It's a compliment, now do as he says or he's gonna make you wear a sling and then how are you gonna use your knife arm?" said Rick. "By the way, did you find anything?"

"Well, shoot, we kinda got distracted," said Merle bad naturedly. "They's near twenny-five walkers on us. We didn't see shit."

"Language," said Hershel.

Andrea spoke up before Merle could retort. "Please, just sit still until this is over with and then you can moan all you want, but you're only making it worse right now."

"Anythin' for you, baby."

When Hershel finally finished Merle tested his arm by extending it straight out. He could still move it, but there was a nagging pain every time he did so. Rick took Hershel and Shane aside on the way back to the house and Lori went over to the trailer leaving Merle to stare dismally at his arm. Hell, it was bad enough that he'd had to cut off his own damn hand—and his right one at that—but now it also had a bullet hole in it. If he gave it another two weeks he wagered that he wouldn't have an arm left at all.

"You still owe me," he told Andrea, massaging the wound with a grimace.

"No I don't. You pulled me up and I shot the walker."  
>"Naw, that don't count. I pulled you up <em>and<em> pushed you outta the way and then you shot me. I'm now two up on you, so you'd better start thinkin' up some clever ideas, missy."

"Yeah, like what?" asked Andrea dismissively.

Merle gave her a meaningful look. "Now, do I really have to spell it out for you?"

"Don't start that again."

"Then start thinkin'."

By the time night had fallen, the house occupants had already started on their supper while the survivor group gathered around a campfire. Merle didn't understand why there was such a line of separation between the two groups, but it made little difference to him. He lurked behind in the shadows as Dale and Carol passed out dishes to everyone, including Daryl who had come to join them. No one paid him any attention as he stood leaning against the trailer with his arms folded to the best of his ability. It was Andrea however who counted heads and glanced over her shoulder at him, lifting her eyebrows pointedly. He wasn't sure if she could see his face, but he shook his head slightly even when she started to motion insistently at the space on the log next to her.

"She ain't gonna quit 'til you give in, Merle," called Shane. "You'd best come over and eat with us."

"I ain't hungry," lied Merle, hoping that they couldn't hear his stomach grumble.

"If you're planning on leaving in the next two days then you'll need all the protein you can get, now get your ass over here," said Andrea firmly. Merle threw up his hand and stump in defeat and sidled onto the log beside her with enough room to fit a whole other person in between them. Dale brought him a plate, a fork, and a cup and Merle placed the plate in his lap. He couldn't quite figure out what exactly was on his plate, but he had been raised—for however brief a time—not to be picky with what he was served and passed the lesson on to Daryl. The food looked like some sort of bean and chopped chicken mixture and figured nothing could be lost from eating it—it would be the others' loss if there was a round of flatulence that night. Scooping the mystery food up clumsily with his left hand and tasting it, he decided that it wasn't half bad, perhaps a little undercooked and in need of salt, but it was better than the squirrels he was used to eating.

It was a little too quiet for his liking as everyone ate without talking and the only sound they could hear was the clinking of silverware against the plates. Good grief, didn't these people even _smile_? He knew that Rick, Shane, and Lori were worried about Carl; Carol had her hopes crushed by her missing daughter, Dale and Andrea were not speaking to each other, and Daryl was just a Gloomy Gus, but what did T-Dog and Glenn have to be upset about? They should be the ones to start conversation, but no, it was quiet enough to hear a mouse moving through the grass…or perhaps a walker in the distance. Finally, Glenn dared to ask Merle a question.

"How exactly did you manage to get that duct tape to stick to your skin?"

Merle rotated his stump so that the blade caught the fire's light. "I used up two rolls of the damn stuff. Duct tape's stronger'n most rope material."

"The color suits you," said Daryl quietly, but Merle heard him and dropped his fork onto his plate loudly.

"Somethin' you wanna say, son?"

"Now, boys, let's not start something," said Dale cautiously.

"And you can just stay out of it," hissed Merle as he stood up abruptly and upset his plate. Daryl tossed his own food aside, though his face turned a sick shade of green when he did.

"C'mon, big brother, I'll take you on right now. I'm through bein' put down and shit on by you. Lemme show you just how fine I've gotten by without you actin' all high and mighty on me. C'mon!"

"I could kick your ass if I had two stumps insteadda one, boy. But if you wanna have it out, bring it. Ol' Merle ain't gonna go easy on ya juss 'cuz your family's 'round—oh, wait, dass right, they ain't your family, are they? Naw, I'm the only family you got, _I'm_ your kin, which gives me the right to beat you black and blue all over. Git up and prove me wrong that you ain't a weakling like our dad said you was."

"Fine, and I'm gonna clean your dirty mug with spit when I win," Daryl vowed.

"Merle, this isn't going to solve anything," said Dale wearily.

"Unless you got some half-ass annoyin'-as-hell little brother, you wouldn't understand, old man, so butt out and let us settle this our way. Sound good to you? Sound good to ev'rybody?"

Rick and Shane exchanged looks, but it was Rick who voiced his opinion. "Now, Merle, you remember what happened the last time you stood up for yourself like this. Don't make this any harder."

"You can shove it up your ass, Officer Friendly, and if you come near me with handcuffs or rope, or anythin' else to hold me down, you gonna be a very sorry man. And that goes for all y'all!"

Andrea nodded to Rick. "Just let them go, Rick."

Merle winked at Andrea. "See, she knows what she's talkin' 'bout."

"At least take the knife off," pleaded Shane.

"'Less you got 'nother two roles've duct tape lyin' 'round, then I don't think so. 'Sides, I wanna hurt 'im, not kill 'im."

Merle followed Daryl out to where the ground was clear and lit up by the light from the porch. He suspected that Daryl might move fast and his assumption proved correct when Daryl charged into him head-first and grabbed him around the waist so that both of them went down in the dirt hard. Daryl wasted no time in punching Merle in the ribs as hard as his knuckles could stand and in turn Merle elbowed Daryl in the head so that his younger brother recoiled with a cry of pain. In two moves Merle kicked Daryl in the groin and threw him aside which gave him time to pack in three good punches before Daryl recovered and pummeled Merle's wound. Dirt flew up above them and blood began to run and still neither of them gained the upper hand. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Merle would have won if he had had both hands at his disposal, but his handicap and wound brought him down a level so that Daryl, even in his weakened state could hold his own against his older brother.

After what seemed like hours later Merle felt someone pulling on his shoulders while Daryl was dragged away from him. He blinked through a swollen eye to see Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn restraining Daryl while Shane, Dale, and Andrea held him back from his little brother.

"Bastards, I told y'all to let us alone! Git off me, git off now, damn it!" cried Merle, using every ounce of his remaining strength to fight them.

"You tied, you tied, now just let it go!" hollered Shane as he trapped Merle's head in a half-nelson.

"A tie ain't good 'nough, lemme at 'im!"

"I'll kill that son've a bitch!" raged Daryl from fifteen feet away.

"Merle, if you don't settle down, I'm gonna have to hurt you—"

A small fist came out of nowhere and hit Merle in the jaw. Though the impact didn't hurt much, it was his curiosity more than anything that drove him to stop moving to investigate the culprit. He saw Andrea caressing her knuckles as she did her best to frown at him.

"Be a man and accept a tie, because that's as close you're going to get in your condition. You two would have just rolled around in the dirt for hours until you both dropped dead from exhaustion. You've had it out and you saw the outcome, now let it go. I want to get some sleep tonight and that's not going to happen if Shane has to tie you up again and you go bitching into the early hours of the morning!"

"Damn, when'd you take over?" asked Merle in bewilderment.

Andrea disregarded his comment and walked over to Daryl who spat, "Just you wait 'till next time, you sack of meat!"

"Ain't gonna be no next time for you, runt."

Pointing a sharp finger at him, Andrea said quite sternly, "Shut the hell up."

Shane and Dale dragged Merle to his feet and made certain that he took a long cooling walk around the house while everyone else went to Daryl's rescue and tended to his injuries. The sight did nothing to improve Merle's mood and did not go quietly, cursing up a storm and kicking furiously at the dirt which only made him cough as it nestled in his lungs. He made one round in plain view of the house and when he came back to the front nearly everyone had settled back around the campfire, even Daryl who was slumped over next to Lori who was helping him hold his plate. Presently Andrea rose, dusting her hands on her jeans as she began to make her way towards the house.

Merle ducked down in the bushes and watched her go in. As quickly as he could in his hulking condition he crept onto the porch, hiding just around the corner so that those at the fire could not see him. He heard Andrea thank Maggie for something inside and the next moment she opened the screen, nearly thwacking him in the nose with it. Reaching out both of his arms, he slapped his hand over her mouth and used his stump to hold her stomach in place as he walked backwards with her off the porch and into the shadows. Once they were right alongside the trees he shoved her back up against one and grabbed her face in between his fingers and thumb.

"Don't you make a sound," he warned her.

She saw that it was him and her body relaxed ever so slightly before she back-hand slapped him in irritation. "You scared the shit out of me, you moron."

"Shut up," he snarled at her. "I thought to myself that you juss might be diff'rent than them backstabbin' sons've bitches 'round that campfire, but I guess I's wrong, cuz as soon as that fight stopped you went rushin' to the runt and left me, juss like you done last time, 'cept this time you told me off while you was at it. I want it out right here and now; whose side you on?"

Andrea's eyes darted side to side, but she couldn't move her face. "I'm not on anyone's side. What are you-?"

"Bullshit. If y'ain't on my side, juss say so and I'll pack up my things and leave right now."

"There aren't any sides, you moron. I'm not against you, but I wasn't rooting you on in that fight. I was against it from the start, but I let you go through with it because when you don't get your way you throw a fit and someone gets hurt. Afterwards I left you because I knew you were fine, but Daryl was about ready to spill puke and blood. He should never have gotten involved, but that's just how you two settle things, even if it is barbaric. Unlike you, he needed me."

"He had everyone else comin' to his rescue; you didn't have to, but you did 'cuz you got a thing for him, ain't that right?"

"Oh, grow up!"

Merle pinched her face harder. "Don't make me hurt you."

Nostrils flaring, Andrea retorted, "Well, if you're going to rape me, would you go inside and ask Hershel for a condom first? I don't want a baby in the middle of an apocalypse, and especially not yours."

"Why would you get the impression that I's gonna rape you?" Merle demanded.

"Oh, gee, I wonder," said Andrea, blinking obviously at his knife. "Usually when men grab women at night and drag them off away from all eyes and ears and threaten her with a knife he intends to rape her. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"You are," said Merle.

"Really?"

"I didn't grab you to do no such thing. I's juss tryin' to get an honest word outta you," said Merle uncomfortably, releasing her.

"Then next time you want to talk to me you and I can sit down like civilized people; don't go grabbing me and scaring me half to death. The only reason I haven't screamed for help and won't turn you in to Rick and Shane is because this is the kind of behavior I expect from you and nothing's going to change that, no matter how nice someone is to you. Now, if you don't have anything else to say to me, then I think I'll return to the campfire now which you are welcome to come to if you're going shut the hell up for the rest of the night. If not, Hershel will show you where you're sleeping."

Merle felt inclined to say sorry, but he couldn't recall a day in his life when he had ever apologized and so it made it awkward for him. He took a few steps back from her. "For a woman, you sure don't shit around."

"Not anymore I don't. Maybe before I lost Amy, but now I don't really have a heart, just brains and a mouth," said Andrea coldly.

"Well, I, uh, I didn't mean to scare you," said Merle, feeling like the words had gotten lost on the way out his mouth.

Andrea's forehead creased and she shook the wrinkles out of her shirt. "If that's 'sorry', I guess that's as good of an apology I'm going to get." She stomped past him but he reached out and took her upper arm in a soft grip.

"Sorry," he said clearly, meeting her gaze so strongly that she had to look away for a moment. She didn't respond, but he could have sworn that he saw the tiniest inclination of her head, which was good enough for him. He let her return to the campfire while he stood there underneath the trees feeling very conflicted.


	4. Chapter 4: Too Damn Stubborn

It wasn't until he realized how stupid it was to be standing alone in the dark did he actually hear something move in the rustling tall grass behind him. He did a quick one eighty and squinted into the night through his puffy eye, flexing his fingers in preparation, though for what, he didn't know. There was just a prickle on the back of his neck and gooseflesh broke out over his arms as he sensed something that he couldn't see. He backed up heel to toe until he was standing in the patch of light cast out from the porch.

Then he heard the moans. _Moans_.

He didn't have to see them to know that they were there and he raised his voice so that it would carry out to those at the campfire. "Walkers comin' in from the north! Walkers!" No sooner had he finished calling for help that he saw four walkers coming drunkenly in his direction with their arms clawing the air for him already. He looked about wildly for another weapon and spotted a crowbar lying on the porch, but if he moved towards it, the walkers might head inside.

_Fuck!_

He heard no help coming and knew he was on his own, but he was going to swear for all he was worth and scream until his vocal chords shattered if that was the case. "Come and git some, you ugly motherfuckers! Ol' Merle's gonna give you a ticket straight to hell!" He rushed the closest walker and dispatched it with a quick jab through its temple before swinging his arm wide and catching another by the nose. He pummeled his fist into its jaw twice and dug his knife in again for good measure.

"Merle, get back!" shouted Rick from behind. Shane, Dale, Glenn, T-Dog, and Andrea trailed him. In the moment that he was distracted a walker overtook him and he went down, bashing his head on something sharp. Dazed and seeing blots of white through his blurry vision he struck out blindly and felt a faraway pain in his knuckle bones. There came a the sound of several gunshots and shouting as well as rabid snarling and then everything was quiet. Something blocked out the light as they stood over him and cool fingers touched his forehead. A pale face swam in and out of his vision before he was swallowed in darkness.

Something sharp was digging into his thigh. He opened his eyes, coming awake very slowly and saw a mottled gray face leering at him as it ripped a large chunk of flesh out of his leg. With a cry of alarm, pain, and terror Merle gave a jerk, but the walker held him down, continuing to feast on his leg and as he tried to raise his knife he felt another walker grab it and sink its teeth hungrily into his forearm. A third walker ducked its head into the crook of his neck and ripped out a long stringy line of something. He screamed as more and more tore at his body…

He sat up bolt right, flaying his arms out to ward off enemies that weren't there. He saw Andrea and Dale, but his brain didn't process what his eyes were telling him and so he fought them, clawing his hand and trying to stab at nothing. Attempting to stand, he felt a fresh wave of pain rush through his head and going cross-eyed, he flumped back onto a soft feather mattress. Touching his hand to his forehead, he felt a bandage and immediately began to search himself for the bites the walkers had left, wondering why he hadn't reanimated yet.

"It's alright, Merle, you're okay," said Dale loudly, patting his arm. "Just calm down."

"Walkers," said Merle groggily.

"They were on you, but we took them out before they bit you," said Andrea softly. "For a moment back there we thought they had. You got lucky."

"I ain't bit?" Merle asked, touching the place where the walker had bit him—or hadn't. There was no bite mark, which meant that apparently he had just had an extremely vivid nightmare. His fall had probably brought it after he had struck his head.

"No, why? Did you have a nightmare?" asked Dale.

"Might call it that," Merle groaned. "How long I been out've it?"

"About eight hours," said Andrea. "Rick and Shane carried you inside and Hershel bandaged your head."

"Throat's dry."

Andrea offered him a glass of water, but Dale had to help him sit up a bit so that he could hold it and swallow. A little too much trickled down his throat at once and he choked, spraying water all down his front. He cursed. He was sore, beaten and bruised all over and in three words—felt like shit.

"Why didn't you call for help?" asked Dale reproachfully.

"I did," he muttered, holding his head while screwing up his face in pain.

"We didn't hear you calling, we only heard the swearing part," said Andrea. "If you hadn't-," she broke off, looking worried.

In spite of himself, Merle managed a small smile. "Worried 'bout me, huh, baby?"

Dale rescued Andrea by telling her to go and get some painkillers from Hershel. "You'll have to lie down for a while or you'll just get woozy and pass out again. By tomorrow you should be well enough to walk around for a bit."

"I'm outta here tomorrow," said Merle.

"You're out of here when I say you are," said Dale superiorly. "You're not stupid and so you know that you can't rush these things. If you tried to walk out in the state you're in you wouldn't be half as aware of anything and the walkers would pick you off within the day. It's best if you stay here for as long as it takes for you to be up to your old standards and besides, it's not like you're on a tight schedule. There's nowhere you have to be, is there?"

"Naw, it ain't that. I juss don't wanna stay here with-,"

"Look, Merle, you may still hold a grudge, but all of us have forgiven you for causing any trouble. We'll look out for you, just don't put us down. We're not expecting you to confess undying love for us, but we do expect a certain amount of respect. After all, we could have turned you out, but we took you in because we're human and that's a rare thing to come by nowadays, right? Just go with it and you'll find life a little bit more bearable. You don't have to get all cozy, make up with Daryl and sing campfire songs, but you don't have to be a complete stranger. After all, you were with us for a month before the rooftop incident and you and Daryl were social then."

Merle wanted to think up a good rebuttal, but nothing came to mind and so he remained silent. He knew Dale had a point, hell, more than a point, he was absolutely correct, but if he expected Merle to admit it then he needed more than just a pair of glasses.

Just then Andrea returned with two painkillers which Merle promptly swallowed without water. He swung his legs off of the bed and rested his knuckle on his thigh, head bent as he composed himself. A wave of nausea passed through him and a moment later it was gone. He tried to grab Andrea's chair for support, but instead she took his hand and put her other hand on the small of his back to help him stand up. When he straightened up the room spun and Dale leaned over the bed to help so that he wouldn't fall over.

"Maybe you shouldn't," began Andrea, but Merle made a noise in his throat to cut her off.

"Are you hungry?" asked Dale.

"Lil' bit," Merle admitted.

"Let me bring you a plate."

Andrea coaxed Merle onto the window seat so that he could get some sunlight. He scratched at the bandage distractedly. "Y'know, I'm thinkin' Lori may've been right when she said you got a thing for shootin' the Dixon brothers," he told her. "First y'shot me and then ten seconds after you go back to the fire a gang of walkers jump me."

"Well, I can stay away from you if you want me to," said Andrea crisply.

"Ain't what I meant," said Merle.

"Well, then, what _did_ you mean?"

"I dunno, I'm juss tryin' to make small talk."

"Well, shut up and eat instead because you're embarrassing yourself," said Dale as he returned with a plate of food. He spoke to Andrea. "Hershel just told me that he thinks we're jinxed. First Sophia, then Carl and Otis, now Daryl and Merle."

"We could solve that if we didn't go out looking for Sophia, but Carol would never forgive Rick if he made that decision," said Andrea darkly. "I know Hershel doesn't want us here and I don't know what the hell he's bitching about, but we're doing what we can to help him, if he'd let us."

"Some people juss don't want no help, iss degradin' and an insult to their pride," said Merle through a mouthful of corn.

"And you'd know from experience, huh?" asked Andrea.

"I'm that kinda person, baby, don't you know that by now?"

"Shut up and eat your food, Merle," said Dale. Lowering his voice he continued, "I don't think Hershel is going to let us stay for much longer and we should tell Rick so we'd best start packing."

Merle clapped a hand to his face and cried out.

"Well, don't _do_, that, you idiot," said Andrea, though she was trying not to smile as she said so.

"You mean t'tell me that the ol' man's gonna kick y'all out and I'll be stuck travelin' in close proximity to Daryl?"

"Is it really that bad?" asked Dale. "Why do you hate him so much?"

Merle took a large bite of a cracker to stall and muttered while spraying crumbs, "I don't _hate_ 'im. I juss think he's a bit ungrateful after all I done for 'im."

"And what's that?"

"Well, he reached adulthood thanks to me. I'm the reason he's alive, innet right? But he's too damn stubborn to 'pologize for bein' an asshole."

"Maybe you're the one who's too damn stubborn," Andrea suggested. "How about you apologize first?"

"Now, look, juss cuz I said sorry to you don't mean I'm gonna do it agin, 'specially not to that ungrateful bastard."

"Then I guess you're stuck wallowing in self pity," said Dale matter-o-factly. "There's going to be tension on both of you and therefore pressure on us if you don't do something to fix this."

"Great."

Dale's prediction turned out to be a day and a half until Merle could stand up and walk five feet without support. In that time Sophia had still not been found and no walkers had stumbled onto the property. There were no arguments, no shouting matches—nothing, for which Merle supposed Hershel was grateful, for the old man certainly did seem a bit less reclusive and moody. At least, he stayed that way until late in the afternoon on the day where Merle came out of the room. He heard Daryl's unmistakable voice as he screamed at Hershel out in the front yard.

Daryl was gesturing enthusiastically at the old man as he vented out his anger and Hershel's hands were bawled into fists.

"I busted my ass lookin' for that lil' girl and she ain't found yet, so we can't leave! What if she comes here and you kicked us out? Her momma cries herself to sleep ev'ry night, just hopin' to hear her baby's voice. 'F you kick us out now then you're as good as killin' that girl. I didn't suffer through an arrow, two walkers, dehydration, and delirium just so you could tell us that you don't feel comf'table with us hangin' 'round much longer. We're doin' the best we can and tryin' not to get in your way, but you need to have y'self a talk with God and ask Him if He thinks what you're doin' is right!"

Merle took a handful of Daryl's collar and yanked him backwards, tossing him unceremoniously into the dirt away from Hershel. "You mind yourself, lil' brother." Daryl tried to grab onto Merle's legs and bring him down, but Merle trapped Daryl's head in his armpit and then with his left hand took hold of his hair.

"You calm down f'one second so I can talk to you!"

He dropped Daryl again and pointed his finger with as much spite as he could. "Now look here, it wasn't my fault that you got landed in my care. I wasn't cut out to be no parent, 'specially if I already had trouble bein' a brother, but I did the best I could. I don't expect you to unnerstand what it was like on me either. You may've felt abandoned, but at least you only felt neglect from one parent. Dad was a drunken bastard who spent half his time beatin' anythin' that moved, which included me. Ever wondered why I stuffed you in the basement when he came home, huh? Iss 'cuz he wouldda killed you if he'd found you, but I could take it and I did so that you wouldn't have to, which left me no time to be all lovin' and cuddlin' towards you. As for Momma, she didn't show me any more affection than Dad showed you. We got stuck with shitty parents, lil' brother, but I tried, I tried real hard to not be like them. 'F ever I hurt you it weren't me bein' mad at you, it was juss me lettin' off steam.

But now we're both men and so I don't need to be lookin' out for you no more. Y'gotta unnerstand that I ain't never had freedom b'fore. I was juss a cockroach unner Dad's foot 'fore you was born and after I had to keep watch on you. Now that you got situated with these people I can see that you're well looked after, and that's why I ain't stayin'. This is all I can do for you and I should damn well think iss good 'nough for both of us."

Perhaps it was a trick of the sunlight, but Merle could have sworn that he saw something that looked suspiciously like water in the corners of Daryl's eyes. A moment later he knew he had only imagined it because Daryl stood up and walked away without another word. Merle turned to Hershel.

"He may seem like a boy t' you, but he's grown up now and he's got people who give a damn about 'im. I know you don't owe me nothin', but I'm askin' that you let those people stay here until they give up their search for that lil' girl."

"_Those people_?" Hershel repeated. "Aren't they your people too?"

"I ain't got no people. I juss know them, thass all. I never intended stayin' with 'em no how. As soon as I can stand up for ten minutes at a time without getting' sick to my stomach then I'm outta here and iss one less person you gotta worry 'bout ruinin' what's left of your life."


	5. Chapter 5: Selfishness

If he was honest with himself, Merle hoped that his telling Daryl the truth was enough to qualify as an apology and that his younger brother had forgiven him, but if he hadn't…well, Merle was used to disappointment. Daryl spent the rest of the day in hiding, but he certainly stayed quiet. Meanwhile Hershel seemed to have taken both the Dixon brothers' pleas—or at least, in Daryl's case enraged ranting—into account and warmed up to the occupants of the traveling group. As night began to fall on them Carol was on watch atop the trailer and Rick and T-Dog were returning from another long day of hunting for any sign of Sophia. Something about the way they were moving towards the trailer made Carol stand up and use the binoculars.

"Carol, what do you see?" asked Lori in anticipation.

"They're trying to tell me something," said Carol with her eyes pressed into the binoculars. "They're waving their arms and pointing behind—oh, _oh_! There's two walkers following them!"

"Dale, climb up and take them out," said Shane as Dale came out of the trailer.

"Naw, let her take a shot," said Merle, nodding at Andrea who had been holding Dale's rifle for him. "'F she grazed Daryl with the sun in her eyes she sure as hell can hit two walkers with the sun at her back."

"Dale's a better shot and this is an emergency," said Shane.

"You want her to learn now or you wanna wait 'til there's a lot more walkers?" questioned Merle. "Let her try on at least one."

"No, it's fine, let Dale do it," said Andrea timidly.

"I ain't askin' f'your opinion. Git up on the trailer and shoot. If you miss, Dale'll take over for you. Go on."

"Merle, we can't waste bullets," Shane reasoned.

"It ain't wastin' if she hits one, is it? And while y'all are arguin', they's gettin' closer, now Andrea, move your skinny white ass up there and shoot the damn things."

Andrea hastened up the ladder and laid down on her stomach, placing the scope to her right eye. She breathed hoarsely through her nose and wrapped her finger around the trigger.

"Are you sure they're walkers this time and not someone we know?" asked Glenn quietly. Merle punctually shut him up by stepping on his foot.

"Take your time, baby," he encouraged.

The rifle shot echoed across the air and one of the walkers toppled over. Andrea laughed victoriously. "I got it!"

Merle gloated at Shane. "Toldja, didn't I?"

"Yeah, great, now let's go take care of the other one. C'mon, Glenn."

Andrea smiled excitedly at Merle. "I got it right in the middle of its forehead too!"

"I saw, great job, honey bunch," Merle complimented. He and Dale met Rick and T-Dog who had something to show Carol. It was a shoe, small in size and filthy, but the laces were untied which inspired confidence in the fact that Sophia had taken it off rather than had it torn from her foot. Carol broke out into tears and cradled the shoe to her chest.

"We found it…not far…from the riverbed," panted Rick as he hunched over wheezing with his hands on his knees. "Then the walkers…they attacked."

"Yeah, thass where we was yes'erday," said Merle. "Y'think she could be alive?"

"I'm almost certain of it," said Rick. He put his arm around Carol. "We'll go back tomorrow and call her all day. We'll find her, Carol, we _will_."

"I know," Carol sobbed.

Merle took himself out of the conversation and went to retrieve his shotgun from in the trailer. Andrea was just climbing down and set Dale's rifle against the side of the trailer still beaming widely. "Thanks," she said, "for, you know, asking Shane to let me try."

"Weren't a try since you made the shot, huh?" pointed out Merle. "Anyway, now you know you can do it, so I'm expectin' you to be quicker next time I got a walker on me and I tell you to shoot."

"All the same," said Andrea.

Merle nodded very slightly. "That's three you owe me, bright eyes, and I expect you to pay up 'fore I leave."

Dinner that night took place in the house. Rick and Lori ate in Carl's bedroom because Hershel had stated that now he could even sit up, which left room for Merle and Daryl to eat around the table. There was light conversation and no awkward silence followed, for which everyone was grateful. Daryl joined them late and sat across from Merle who was at the far right end of the table. He made no comment and didn't look Merle in the eye, but Merle preferred this to the snide remarks he had gotten the first night.

Afterwards Shane offered to take the first watch of the night while everyone else retreated to their respective resting places. Merle climbed up into the loft where Maggie had laid out a few blankets for him on the floor, but it had been an extremely hot day and Merle didn't feel like sleeping cooped up inside. He opened the window very quietly so as not to wake the occupants of the house and climbed nimbly out onto the roof where he spread out one blanket underneath him and brought his knees up to his chest, watching the stars twinkling overhead. It seemed ironic that these same stars shined light for the dead. Yawningly widely, he saw Glenn sneaking out to the barn with a blanket and a few moments later Maggie came running out of the house after him.

Well, at least _someone_ was getting action tonight. With a very lonely feeling in the pit of his full stomach, Merle set his back against the wall, crossed his arms, and was asleep in seconds.

It was to a very rude awakening that he jolted into consciousness the next morning as he heard voices calling his name. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and saw Shane and Dale down in the front yard cupping their hands around their mouths to holler for him. Inside he heard Andrea shouting out to him in empty threats.

"What's ev'rybody yelpin' about, huh?" he called down to Shane and Dale who looked up in unison and shook their heads.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" asked Dale, annoyed. "We've been looking for you for almost half an hour. Why didn't you answer the first time we called?"

"Heavy sleeper," said Merle dismissively.

"Daryl, Andrea, we found him! He's on the damn roof!"

Merle heard Daryl swear loudly, but it was Andrea's comment that made him start laughing.

"You _ass_hole, I hate you! If I'd have known that you'd be this much trouble, I would have shot you in the head when you had that walker on you."

"Yeah, g'mornin' to you too, sunshine," said Merle, climbing back through the window to face her with her hands on her hips and a woman's look of fury on her face. "What?" he asked innocently.

"Never mind, just get downstairs; Rick's organizing the search groups."

"Don't need to be there for that; I already know my group."

Andrea shot him the middle finger.

Down on the lawn Rick had split the groups thus: himself, Shane, and T-Dog; Hershel's youngest daughter's boyfriend Jimmy, Daryl, and Glenn; and Merle, Andrea, and Dale. Equipped with their preferred weapons, the groups set out to search the riverbed once more. Merle, Daryl, and Andrea had very valid reasons for not wanting to go back, but given that they knew the layout now, they really didn't have much of a choice. Merle complained loudly that the only reason he was accompanying them was because he couldn't stand one more day of hanging around the house with absolutely nothing to do, but Andrea and Dale only responded by telling him to shut up.

Knowing that walkers now patrolled the area in heavy numbers, they all brought bludgeoning weapons for security since they would have to call out Sophia's name. With all the ruckus they were making, Merle didn't expect anything to find them except for the walkers, not that he mentioned this to the others. Dale and Andrea lagged behind deep in conversation about something or another and Merle pressed on by himself. He wasn't as experienced in tracking as Daryl, but he could tell when humans had made quite a mess of walking around and therefore was instantly aware when he no longer saw mindless footprints in the mud from walkers but a set that consisted of a tiny shoe as well as a foot.

"Y'all hush up back there, I think I'm on to somethin'," he snipped at Andrea and Dale. He hurried forward bent double as he followed the trail. "Call out to her."

"Sophia!" yelled Dale. "Sophia, come out, honey!"

"We're here, Sophia, you're safe!" shouted Andrea.

Merle knelt down to examine the prints closer when he saw a tiny overgrowth of weeds hanging out over a ledge. Behind them was a small cavern, just big enough for a child to slip into, and the tracks led straight into it. He stole forward until he was right up alongside the overgrowth and pulled the weeds out of the way. Inside he could see something moving and gripped his bat readily.

"Sophia?"

Dale stood behind him and shined his flashlight into the cavern. Sitting in the mud, completely filthy and half conscious was the little girl.

"Is she bitten?" asked Andrea in a horrified whisper.

"Dunno, lemme find out," said Merle and he ventured farther in. He extended the bat and poked Sophia in the leg to get a reaction from her. She opened her eyes a little bit and Merle saw a dark hazel color, but no white. He took her tiny wrist and gently pulled her towards him. Straight away she collapsed in his arms and he brought her outside where he and the other two searched her up and down for bite marks, but they found none. Andrea sighed in relief while Dale examined the girl.

"She's in shock and severely dehydrated, but she'll be alright if we can get her back. I'll carry her," Dale offered.

Just then they heard three gunshots and screaming. Andrea pointed at Shane hobbling in their direction. He had his pistol out and was firing it at the oncoming walkers who were giving a mad chase. "Run, _run_!" he urged.

"Where are the others?" asked Dale just as pressingly.

"We got separated, now run!"

Dale deposited Sophia in Shane's arms with the command to take her while he, Merle, and Andrea held the walkers off. "Go, we'll cover your escape and catch up!"

"We will?" asked Merle.

"Just swing," said Dale. He and Andrea each brought their crowbars down, cleaving skulls in half left and right. Merle was watching the rear to make sure Shane and the girl got out when he saw more walkers closing in from behind, from the left, from the right. They were surrounded.

"Bad news, y'all, looks like we're trapped!"

Dale's already wide eyes got even wider if it was possible and understanding dawned on his face. He watched Andrea beat her crowbar repeatedly into a walker's face with a strange expression on his face, almost one of love. "Fight your way out backwards and use the guns if you have to!"

Merle needed no second urging and opened fire with his pistol on the two closest walkers. He ushered Andrea through the opening, tucked the pistol under his arm, and bashed in a walker's skull with his bat. Dale was losing ground fast and he was visibly tiring.

"We both aren't going to make it," he told Merle, fighting off twin walkers. "Get her out for me and see that she stays safe."

"What?" asked Merle, not understanding.

"I said get—her—the—hell—_out_!" cried Dale, smacking his crowbar against a walker's nose with every word. "Go _now_!"

"Dale!" shrieked Andrea.

"Run, Andrea, you have to run on your own this time! Merle, for the love of God, get out!"

Merle passed through the opening in walkers, catching Andrea in a clothesline motion at her stomach as she tried to run back at Dale. "No, Andrea, you gotta run, c'mon!"

"Dale, no!"

Transfixed in fascinated horror, Merle watched the walkers overwhelm the old man, biting, gnawing, and tearing. He went down still beating his crowbar and roaring, "ANDREA!"

"_NOOO!"_ screamed Andrea.

Merle scooped her up and half carried her out of the riverbed, warning her not to look back. She was crying hysterically into her hands and Merle had to practically drag her while a few stray walkers tripped after them. Dale's screams had stopped, but Andrea's had increased and she was still fighting Merle to go back for her friend so that he could barely maintain a grip on her. Finally he spun her around to face him and smacked her hard across the face with the backside of his hand.

"Get a fuckin' hold of yourself, woman! He gave up his life and told you to run, now you better run or I'll hit you agin and drag you back to the house, I shit you not!"

Andrea looped her arm around his for support and they ran. They didn't stop until the house came into view and even then they didn't stay stationary for long. Ahead they could see Shane handing Sophia to Carol who rocked her daughter in her arms, overcome with joy. The rest of Shane's group and the other group had made it back before Merle and Andrea, and so many pairs of eyes observed two survivors trudging towards them, one whose face was blotchy and tear-stained.

"Where's Dale?" asked Daryl, looking from Merle to Andrea but Merle could tell that his little brother already knew the answer to his question.

"We was surrounded," said Merle, sliding his arm free of Andrea's. "He gained us some time. He's gone."

At these words Andrea hugged herself and howled bitterly as more tears ran free from her face. Carol's own tears of happiness turned wry at the loss of their friend and the fatherly figure of the group. Shane's face went pale and Rick sank onto his knees. Daryl dropped his crossbow and it was a very lucky thing for T-Dog that it wasn't loaded.

"When he told me to take Sophia," said Shane in a faraway voice, "he knew what was gonna to happen. And he told you to run?"

Everyone looked at Merle, hoping for some proof of reassurance, but Merle could give them none.

"Now, y'all quit lookin' at me like that, it ain't my fault," he said defensively. "There wasn't a damn thing I couldda done for 'im. I had my hand full and 'f I had _both_ of 'em I mighta been able to help him, but Officer Friendly here saw to that."

"Don't you blame him!" shouted Lori in Rick's defense. "You were there with Dale, you could have done _something_!"

"The hell, I couldda! Maybe I shouldda taken his place, 'cuz thass obviously what y'all are gittin' at! I can see it; you wish I was the one who had stayed behind, ain't that right? Huh?"

"Stop, just stop it, all of you!" shrieked Andrea. "It was _my_ fault! He was trying to give me a chance that I don't deserve and it's my fault! God forgive me, it's all my fault!" With that her legs gave out and Merle had to catch her. She pounded her fist against his broad chest, screaming her heart out until at last her strength left her and she could only sob into his shoulder. Uncomfortable as he was with the situation, Merle patted her back once or twice and then set her gently down on the ground.

"'M sorry, baby," he whispered so only she could hear him.

Daryl caught his eye as if to ask him, _Are you okay_?_, _and Merle shrugged. Up to this point he would have said that he had little to no feelings for anyone in the group, but the drawn out finality of Dale's death, the horror of it, it all brought about a strange feeling. He couldn't wish this death on anyone and now that he thought about it, Dale was probably the one who most deserved to live for his selfishness and yet he was the first to be taken.

It looked like it was time for him to leave before anything worse happened.


	6. Chapter 6: At Gunpoint

Merle was on first watch that night. He had decided to leave at first light when most everyone was asleep to avoid any goodbyes, especially from Daryl or Andrea and brooded over the day's events while he sat in Dale's vacant chair, realizing that the old man would never again be on lookout with his binoculars and rifle, watching over his family with a determined calmness. He would never call out in warning that a walker was approaching or offer a word or two of advice to the group. There would always be something missing for the survivors from now on.

And all they had left of him was his trailer.

Merle put his face in his hand, running his fingers through what little hair he had. Had it been his fault? Could he have done anything? Anything at all? Perhaps if he had both of his hands he could have tried, but with only one, he barely managed to save Andrea. It didn't even occur to him that now he was four up on her. In all honesty, _he_ should have been the one to stay behind, but he didn't have the guts the old man had—though the walkers probably had his guts now.

He slapped himself viciously across the cheek. _Git that shit outta your head_, he reprimanded himself.

"Merle, are you up here?"

"You the one who put me on watch in the first place, don't ask _are you up_ _here_," said Merle coldly, crossing one leg over the other as he set his shotgun in his lap.

"I got somethin' to say to you," said Shane as he climbed up the ladder. Merle gave him no proclivity to continue, but he did anyway. "Look, I don't care whether you couldda helped Dale or not. I don't care that you think we wish you and Dale had traded places. I was willin' to overlook everythin' you've ever done to hurt someone in this group until today. I'm tellin' you here and now that you'd better be gone by mornin' or I will personally run you off this property with a rifle pointed at your ass."

"What the hell you talkin' 'bout, man?" asked Merle, tightening his one handed grip on his shotgun.

"I seen the bruise on Andrea's face. It came from a hand and no way in hell would Dale have ever slapped her. You did. You struck a woman, and not just any woman, you hit Andrea who's already dealin' with enough shit as it is. How dare you? Just because she refused to have sex with you-,"

"You shut your fuckin' mouth," hissed Merle, coming to his feet. "She was tryin' t'run back to Dale and I hit her so that she'd come to her senses and follow me. 'F I hadn't she wouldda been eaten too. I saved her, you dumb son've a bitch. I may be one tough, bad-tempered hard-ass, but I would _never_ strike a woman in anger. And not that iss any business've yours, but there's nothin' that's happened, is happenin', or will happen 'tween us. I know how she feels 'bout it and I respect that, so you can put your rifle where your mouth is and pull the trigger."

"You stay the hell away from her, you hear me?" said Shane dangerously. "If you go anywhere near her I'll leave you as bait for the walkers. You'd better be gone by mornin' or-,"

"Or what?" challenged Merle, coming within an inch of Shane's face. "I dare you to threaten me agin, y'lily livered piece of shit. I can see you ain't got no guts at all. That ol' man was worth ten've you, yet he was the one who died. _You_ shouldda taken his place, but you didn't 'cuz you're a fuckin' coward. I bet my life on it that you wouldda left Andrea and Dale for dead if they'd gotten in your way. But I can guarantee this; if you ever try to teach me my place agin, you gonna wish you was facin' a horde've walkers instead've me. You git me?"

Shane looked like he was going to punch Merle in the stomach and then have an all out no holds barred fight, but he only descended down the ladder, leaving Merle to continue his watch. He sank back into Dale's chair and tapped his fingers to a nonexistent rhythm on his knee. Feeling rather proud of himself for having a completely verbal and non violent argument, he took a bite off of a hunk of beef jerky but spat it out almost instantly. He couldn't eat while he still had such guilty feelings.

Soon after Shane left he saw Andrea creeping out of one of the tents and the moonlight caught something shining silver in her hand. Luckily for Merle he had told her to clean off her Ladysmith, but then with a horrible jolt in his stomach he realized what she was about to do. He quickly climbed down the ladder, jumping the last few rungs and ran out to her, calling out audibly but not yelling, "Andrea, juss what in the fuck do you think you're doin'?"  
>Andrea turned the pistol on him in warning. "Stay back, Merle. Let me go."<p>

"Are you stupid or somthin'? After all Dale did for you, you're gonna put a bullet in your mouth? Woman, I'll be damned if I let you let that poor ol' man die in vain 'cuz you're feelin' emotional."

"You can't understand," said Andrea shakily. "I told you that Dale took my chance to die from me, remember? Now he's dead, his blood is on my hands, and I'm still alive. He deprived me of my choice twice, expecting me to live with that! I know he wished I was his daughter because that's how he treated me and he was certainly more than a friend in my eyes and I spent the rest of the time I had with him being a complete bitch to him. I can't—I _can't_ go on with that on my conscience. I truly have lost all of my family now and I have absolutely nothing and no one left to live for, so please, let me go."

"I can't do that, baby. I promise I won't count this towards what you owe me, but you gotta put the gun down. I ain't gonna sit here and do nothin'. I ain't afraid to hit you agin, but I'd prefer not to 'cuz I juss got told off for it."

"W-what?"

"Shane juss threatened me. He knows I'm the one who hit you but he thinks iss 'cuz I was sexually abusin' you, so after I told 'im to go shove it up his ass, he warned me to leave at first light. Now, I ain't leavin' juss then to show 'im how much I set store by his threats, but after that I will be leavin' and I'd like to know that you're still alive."

"You—you can't leave now," said Andrea, "not after what happened. They're one person short and they're going to need you."

"Uh-huh, well it looks to me as if they's gonna be two people short if you don't pull your head outta your ass and gimme the pistol. This won't solve nothin', and you're only gonna hurt them more if you do it. I'd say iss time for you to stop bein' selfish."

"I'm—_I'm_ being selfish?" Andrea thundered. "Merle Dixon, it's not up to you to decide what's best for me! That was Dale's job and it got him killed!"

"And he passed it on to me and I'm gonna end up goin' to hell if I let you shoot yourself."

"Why do you care? You don't give a shit about anyone here, least of all me, so stop pretending like you do! We got along just fine without you and they'll survive when you're gone. You never planned on staying and you're only hurting Daryl by hanging around acting as if you're here for good. You should do like Shane said and leave!"

"You juss told me that I couldn't, make up your mind, woman! Besides, what's it matter to you if I stay or not if you gonna shoot yourself? Look, I ain't beggin' you to hand over the pistol f'me 'cuz I think it's pretty obvious that we ain't got no feelins for each other, but what 'bout all them who're gonna wake up and find out that you're gone? Then, 'f I leave, they's gonna think you ran off with me, which will only leave their memory of you in a low standard. Juss think, think for one second what you're gonna accomplish by doin' this, Andrea."

"I've had enough," said Andrea, pointing her pistol at him once again. "Get back, Merle, and don't make me shoot you. I know how now and I will."

"Naw, you won't. You won't want two people's blood on your hands."

"How would you know what I will and won't do? You don't know me!"

"Then gimme a chance to," said Merle quietly. "'F it means keepin' you alive, I'll stick 'round. I ain't all heartless, you might juss grow to like me."

"No, you're still that same man who wasted bullets on the rooftop, who called Morales and T-Dog shit because of their race, who threatened our survival, who insulted me, and who deserved to die on that rooftop."

"Now, I don't think you're givin' me my due credit. Y'all hated me for doin' what I done and I hated you for leavin' me to die, but ain't we saved each others' asses since then? Ain't we try and survived? I may be the same man, but my insides've changed a bit, baby. I know you see it. I'll show you juss how much I've changed, juss drop the gun."

Andrea shook her head.

Merle raised his shotgun, aiming for something past her and she whirled around to get a look at it, just like he suspected she would. When she saw that he had tricked her, she turned back, but he had already made it to her and wrestled the pistol out of her hands, tucking it into his belt. She made a grab for it and he took her face in his left hand just like he had done the night before.

"Lookit me," he ordered. "Y'see now that after all you said and done to bring me out of my hole that I can't let you dig one for y'self. You got me carin' and I ain't gonna let you do it. Tell me what it is I can do to help you and I will, but baby, you gotta let me try."

Fresh tears sprung from Andrea's eyes and she covered her face with her hands. Merle steered her towards the tent she shared with Glenn and Daryl. He threw a flathead stone at Daryl to wake him up and whispered, "Hey, get your ass outta bed."

"Wassmatter?" asked Daryl, reaching for his crossbow.

"Iss your turn for watch," said Merle.

"It ain't neither," moaned Daryl, burying his head under his pillow. "I ain't got watch till tomorrow night."

"Naw, you got watch _right now_," said Merle. "I gotta take Andrea inside."

"Why, what happened?" Daryl sat up, suddenly very alert. "Is she bit?"

"Naw, she ain't bit, you fruitcake, she's juss distraught. I'm takin' her to Hershel, so you keep a look out 'til I get back and then you can catch up on your beauty sleep."

Daryl saw Andrea's gun in Merle's belt and opened his mouth to speak, but Merle shot him a look of warning. "Right, keep watch, got it."

Merle found himself almost carrying Andrea up the porch steps to where Hershel and Jimmy were conversing in the parlor. Hershel's face fell when he looked at Andrea.

"Did she hurt herself? You people-,"

"She's hysteric, that's what she is," Merle interrupted. "Dale's death was juss 'bout the last straw for her. If y'got any sedatives to calm her down, I'd be much obliged. I don't want her causin' herself any harm."

"I'll certainly see what I can do for her, if you're sure that's all that's wrong with her."

"She ain't been right since she lost her sister, I can tell you that. Seems that if she had the chance she might try suicide, though she ain't tried yet and I wanna make sure it stays that way."

Hershel escorted Andrea into the other room to treat her with a sedative and instructed Jimmy to keep watch over her. Merle waited outside and when Hershel came out he gave Merle a brief nod. "She'll be fine now. Post traumatic stress is all it was."

"Lotta that goin' 'round," observed Merle.

"But not with you, I noticed," said Hershel knowingly. "It seems that she's been working some deeper magic on you, son. Everyone can see that there's a change that's come over you since you first got here and I myself can hardly believe it's only been a few days since a rough and tough no good bully came tramping onto my land. You saved her, I saw from the window. I didn't hear all of it, but I could see you arguing it out with her, refusing to let her go through with it. I commend you on your insistence and acceptance that you are a changed man."

"I ain't," said Merle. "That's all juss bullshit I fed her to stop her from goin' through with killin' herself."

"Of course."

"Look, I'd 'preciate it if y'didn't mention this to anyone else. No one needs to know," said Merle pointedly.

"If they hear about it, it won't be from me, you have my word."

"Thanks."

"Now, don't worry about her anymore tonight. Go finish your watch and then get yourself some sleep. After all, you're leaving in the morning, aren't you?"

"Oh, right…yeah," said Merle, having completely forgotten.

"I thought so."

Merle returned to his post where Daryl was anxiously awaiting news of Andrea. With the promise that she would be fine, he sent his little brother away, making it quite clear that he had no wish for further conversation, but he didn't call up T-Dog for his watch. He settled into Dale's chair lost in deep thought. Hershel had said that everyone could see that a change had come over Merle Dixon. Did that mean that now he looked like a pushover pansy? Had he lost his identity in caring for, but not about these people? _Did_ he care about these people? In all honesty, he admitted that he cared for _some_ of them, but he wasn't entirely sure about _all_ of them just yet. If he told himself that he still hated Officer Friendly and Shane and perhaps one or two others then he believed that he still had his old and original personality. He remembered why he had stopped here in the first place—to kill Rick. But did he really want to now?

Muttering darkly to himself, he concluded that caring, in all its glory, sucked.


	7. Chapter 7: At the Crossroads

_Merle Dixon, you really landed y'self in the shit this time_.

He had seen Shane leave the trailer and go into Rick's tent not two minutes ago which was more than enough time for him to complain to his best buddy about last night's conversation as well as point out the bruise on Andrea's face if Rick hadn't already seen it. And so what sounded like a small explosion erupted from within the tent and the next moment Rick and Shane came storming out as mad as wet hens and both of them were armed. Merle sighed to himself and laid his hand on his shotgun.

"Merle Dixon, get down here _right now_," fumed Rick, squinting up at Merle in the early morning sun.

Merle pretended not to have heard, but it was extremely difficult when the two began to shout.

"Y'heard what he said, get down!" added Shane.

"I heard 'im, but I'll come down when I's good'n ready, so go cool off, ladies."

Rick unholstered his Colt Python to show just how serious he was and Merle decided that he could no longer ignore them. He slung his shotgun strap over his shoulder and climbed down to face the two as a nasty feeling of dread rose in his stomach.

"Well?" he asked edgily.

"You know damn well what I'm gonna say, you son of a bitch," said Rick through his teeth. "I ain't seen Andrea's face, but I don't have to 'cuz I can take Shane's word for it. You threatened him and you hit her. How do we know you didn't threaten her not to tell how Dale really died? Is that why Dale gave Sophia to Shane? To get her out of harm's way because he knew what you were gonna do?"

"I'm the one who found that lil' girl, y'jackass. I dunno where you're comin' up with these wild-ass stories about me killin' Dale and threatenin' Andrea, but they's gonna stop right now. 'F I wanted to kill anyone, I wouldda done it and then hightailed it outta here already 'cuz I ain't stupid 'nough to hang around."

"You're stupid enough to get caught," seethed Rick. "Where's Andrea?"

"She's in the house," said Merle.

"I want to see her face and then hear it from her myself about what really happened."  
>"I tolja what happened, didn't I? Every word was the truth."<p>

"You went too far when you put your hands—_hand_ on her, Dixon. I had hoped that you changed, but this is unredeemable and you're gonna leave right now or we'll force you to. You've done enough damage and you won't hurt these people anymore. I tell you, you'd better pray to God that you kept it in your pants or I'll-,"

Merle popped out his fist in a flash and Rick stumbled back into Shane. "Less git somethin' straight, you pieces of shit, I ain't some hormone-crazed adolescent, I'm a grown man and I happen to respect that woman. We ain't done anythin', not one damn thing. I did not kill that old man, I did not put my hands on Andrea in any dishonest way, but I did threaten your pal there 'cuz he stepped outta line when he accused me of bein' a rapist. Iss thanks to me that you got that girl back and that Andrea's alive, so you show me some fuckin' respect!"

Rick and Shane simultaneously cocked their pistols.

"Get out," ordered Rick.

Merle sneered. "Alright, I'm goin'. But I find somethin' extremely funny; only reason I dropped in on y'all was to pay you back for leavin' me to rot on that rooftop, Grimes. S'far as anyone else is concerned, I earned my right to stay here 'cuz I ain't the one who screwed up leadin' these people and when they find out t'was _you_ who threw me out, _you_ gonna be the one they wished they left on the roof instead."

Doing an about face just like he had learned in the Army all those years ago before his mouth earned him a long prison sentence, he turned away and strode down the road, holding up his left hand with the middle finger standing alone in farewell.

When he was out of eye distance he came to a stop and kicked furiously at an ash tree, but this only added an additional pain to his toe rather than comfort him. This time it wasn't his yapper or violent nature that had gotten him into trouble; it was his hand and attempts to protect—a woman. Of all the things. He wished slow, painful deaths on Rick and Shane as he sat down and put his face in his hand. He said it before and he'd say it again; they could go to hell. And he knew _the real reason_ they'd thrown him out.

They felt threatened by him. He was the alpha male, wasn't he? Hadn't be survived on his own with no dominant hand? Hadn't the others given him his due respect because he had _proven _himself?

"Hell, yeah," he said to himself.

At least there was _some _consolation, but he confessed to himself that he'd much rather be back at the house without consolation than alone here in the woods with it. Already he was missing the environment, being around living people, knowing that Daryl was close by. He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye, which was what he had wanted, right? He had wanted to sneak out without having to face the hardships that saying goodbye meant.

But he hadn't wanted it to be like this.

If giving a shit about a few people meant that he had gone soft, then he'd just have to deal with it by beating someone or something into a pulp. It was human, caring about people, right? And wasn't that what he was? In his current situation in the present day, the definition of human was very clear and he thought he defined it pretty damn well. He sometimes thought of himself as a super being, but being _human_ in every sense of the word was good enough for him, so it should be good enough for anyone, including those two idiots who turned him out.

He wasn't settling for being kicked out like a stray dog begging for food. Hell, he hadn't come to them begging anyway; he'd come to get his revenge and whether or not he'd get it now didn't matter one damn bit. He wasn't going to stand by and do nothing. He'd show them that they couldn't take a broom to Merle Dixon.

_You gonna get y'self shot f'you go back there,_ he warned himself. All he could do was hope that one of the others would stand up for him. If Andrea ever planned on repaying her debt in the tally of four, now would be the time. He stood up and heard a voice calling out to him.

"Merle!"

He saw her wandering around off to the right carrying the bat he had been using. There was terror in her face riddled with sadness and despair. Wondering how women could carry so many emotions at the same time without exploding, Merle was about to respond, but spotted a walker stalking her and raised his shotgun before realizing that he couldn't reach the damn thing from here. Grumbling about women and all the trouble they caused, he took off after the walker, making as much noise as possible to draw its attention. His thoughtless plan worked well enough until he saw that one walker had become three. He invented quite an imaginative curse word before he went to work. Two walkers went down with a knife jab and a bullet but the third one was taken out by Andrea who beat at its skull as if it were a piñata stuffed with her favorite type of low-fat candy.

"What the hell you doin' out here?" asked Merle when she had finished.

"No, what are _you_ doing?" demanded Andrea.

"I asked you first."

"I came to get you; why else would I be calling your name? Besides, you still have my pistol and I want it back." She pointed to Merle's belt where he had stored her Ladysmith and completely forgotten about it. "You have to come back now."

"Well, now, let's see; first you wanted me to leave 'cuz I made you uncomf'table, then you wanted me to stick 'round 'cuz apparently everyone needed me since they lost Dale, then you wanted me gone when you was fixin' to shoot y'self, and now y'want me back? I ain't so sure that I'm feelin' courteous 'nough to come back with how I been treated by your Dynamic Duo."

"They're wrong. There was an uproar when everyone found out that you'd left. Hershel and Daryl started arguing and then Maggie and T-Dog took their side and now everyone's screaming at each other. I slipped away unnoticed, but it won't stay like that for long. Please, come back."

Merle had a hard time hiding his emotions. So, everyone had taken his side after all? How patronizing…

"Let me have my gun," said Andrea, holding out her hand expectantly.

"Uh-uh, you lost your shootin' privileges when you got an itchy trigger finger on y'self last night. I don't trust you with anythin' that's got a projectile."

"It's mine."

"Y'know, I've saved your ass four times now and I'd be doin' it agin if I keep this."

"I can't pay you back if you don't give me what's mine."

"Oh, so you gonna shoot me? How's that payin' me back?"

"I didn't say I was going to shoot you, stop being such an asshole! Just give me my damn gun back and walk home with me."

"Can I get a 'please'? See, I ain't used to favorin' people, 'specially after they throw me out at gunpoint after accusin' me of shit like killin' old men and rapin' certain women, if y'get what I'm sayin'. That shit ain't flyin' with me no more, Andrea. Dass twice I been accused of getting' busy with you and twice Officer Rick Damn Friendly pointed his pistol at me. If I'm goin' back, I might just pop him and his lapdog one, see f'I don't."

"Then they'll deserve it. It's not up to them to decide who has to make it on their own anymore than it's your decision if I get to keep my gun or not, so _please_ give it back and I promise not to use it on myself."

Merle turned his lip up in approval and handed it back to her. "Now, that weren't so hard, huh?"

"Shut up."

When Andrea had said 'uproar' Merle imagined Rick, Shane, and perhaps Lori standing on one side while everyone else stood on another, but what he found was Hershel pointing a sawed off shotgun at Rick and Shane with the others giving them a wide berth. He and Andrea hastened to the standoff and Daryl's face split into a huge grin that looked very out of place when he saw his older brother returning.

"There now, didn't I tell you bastards that he'd come back no matter what you said?"

"Hush up, lil' brother," said Merle, marching straight up to Rick and punching him the gut. The latter didn't react on account of having Hershel's gun turned on him, but he fell after Merle hit him, coughing. "That's for bein' an asshole. I dun tolja that they'd turn on you if you got rid've me, didn't I? All y'had t'do was butt your damn nose out of my business."

"Look at Andrea's face, you gotta be dumber than a walker to know that she's been hit," Shane insisted.

Merle appealed to Andrea. "Feel free to join in any time."

With no hesitation and none of her former shyness, Andrea addressed Rick and Shane. "I'm fine. I understand why you would be protective with what's happened in the past but if we're going to live through this, if we're going to survive, you _have_ to stop trying to make decisions that aren't yours to make like deciding what's best for us and turning Merle onto the road without anyone's consent. He started out with us and he deserves to stay for as long as he needs to."

"I heard it myself that he ain't got nothin' _worth_ stayin' for," said Shane. "You seen the way he treats Daryl."

"Used to," Daryl piped up. "We've got an understandin' now. We ain't gonna link arms and start singin', but we ain't fightin' no more neither. He's all I've got and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you turn him away. If he leaves, that's his choice, but if you try'n make him you're gonna have blood on your hands."

"Don't you turn out to be like him, Daryl," pleaded Lori. "You've changed. Don't make things worse by siding with him."

"He's my brother, damn you," snarled Daryl, "and I'll side with 'im if it means doin' the right thing, so I'll thank you to stay the hell out've it."

"Don't you dare talk to my wife like that," said Rick dangerously.

"I'll show her respect when she shows some to my brother," said Daryl, unslinging his crossbow from his shoulder.

"Reach for it, Daryl, I dare ya," said Shane with his rifle at the ready.

"Go to hell, Shane."

Shane smacked Daryl across the face with the butt of his weapon and Merle knocked his elbow into the back of Shane's head, drawing his own shotgun. "Touch my brother agin and I swear to God I'll kill ya, Shane. I don't care who I've gotta teach a lesson, y'ain't gonna blame him for what you got to settle with me."

"I don't need your help," muttered Daryl, rubbing the spot where Shane had hit him.

"Stay out of it, Daryl, this ain't your argument," Merle cautioned.

"The hell it ain't! Just 'cuz I'm stickin' up f'you don't mean I need your help with it."

"You're hurt 'nough as it is, juss shut up."

"Just you try and stop me!"

Merle turned to Daryl in annoyance when he felt something clout him upside his head. He swayed, heard a ricochet gunshot, and blacked out before he hit the ground.


	8. Chapter 8: Tied Up and Cut Off

He didn't even wait to come fully awake before he called Rick and Shane a variety of swearwords that even sounded weird to him. Certain that his skull had been cloven open, he opened one eye and saw a low slanted ceiling. Then he became aware that, unlike the last time he had woken up after being knocked out, this time he was lying on a very uncomfortable floor, and that unlike when he had been singly handcuffed to the roof of that department store, this time his left wrist and both his ankles were tied down with circulation-cutting rope. Those sons of bitches had tied him down to the floor so that he almost couldn't move. Almost.

He tried to roll over or sit up, but he was bound too tightly. From somewhere to his left he heard Daryl speak. "Quit movin' 'round, y'idiot, it ain't no use. We ain't goin' nowhere 'till they decide that we ain't gonna cause no more trouble."

"What happened? Damn it, I hate missin' important details, what's goin' on?" asked Merle, looking sideways to see Daryl's legs on the other side of the bed.

"A fight broke out after Shane smacked you," explained Daryl, sounding extremely pissed off. "Andrea and Carol tried to reason with Rick and Shane and Hershel was about to pull the trigger when Rick pointed out that they were fightin' 'mongst themselves 'cuz you and me brought 'bout the mob mindset, or some bullshit like that. He said that he knew he was wrong throwin' you out, but that now you was just too riled up and that you had to be secured. He said he wasn't gonna hurt you or nothin' and then he and Shane brought you up here to tie you down. I tried to stop 'em and then they tied _me_ up. After all I done for 'em, this is the thanks I get."

"Welcome to the Left F'Dead Club, lil' brother. How long we been in here?"

"Maybe an hour, two at the most. It's mostly quiet on the outside. Andrea's tried to come up the stairs a couppla times, but Shane's guardin' the door."

"Asshole!" shouted Merle, knowing that Shane could hear him. "You did _not_ juss lock me up agin! You done it now! When I get out, I'm gonna kick your skinny yeller ass and then I'm gonna kill ya!"

"Just calm down in there, Merle, or you won't be comin' out for a long time," said Shane from the other side of the door. "If it makes you feel any better, Rick's hurtin' like hell from the two times you hit him and we're both sorry that things went too far, but you and your brother were threatenin' the safety of the group, so we gotta detain you for a while."

"Shove it up your ass," Merle growled.

"Longer you fight, longer you stay tied down," Shane reasoned.

"What happens if one of us gotta piss? Ain't thought of that, huh?"

"Alright, quiet down now, Merle."

"Oh, I'll give ya quiet, juss watch me!" With that Merle began stomping his heels on the floor repeatedly and kicking at anything within reach while he threw out insults. In no time he heard Andrea, Glenn, and Jimmy protesting below, but Rick was holding his ground.

"Do you hear him up there? You really want to let him loose when he's in that kinda state? He'd grab a gun and shoot us, mark my words."

"He's not a dog that you tie up when it misbehaves, Rick," said Carol.

"He is not in a stable state of mind and I will not risk something happening just to get some peace and quiet around here."

"If you think he's mad enough to shoot you now, don't you think it just might be possible that those feelings will escalate if you leave him there much longer? Let me go and talk to him and I'll bet my gun that I can calm him down," Andrea proposed.

"Y'hear that?" Merle asked Daryl. "She bet her gun, that means she's gotta be serious as hell."

"Aw, just shut up, Merle."

For once, he did, but not because Daryl told him to. Instead he set his head back down on the floor to brood over what had happened. Why did this situation look so familiar? Oh, of course, because it had happened before and what had the result been? What had he had to sacrifice? His hand. And this time he was in no position to cut off anything else, much less find a tool used to cut anything off with. Then there was the fact that if he could find something to cut himself free, he couldn't hold the tool because his right elbow had been roped off for security. He was completely screwed.

"I tell ya, bro, this is worse than that time we got busted for stealin' that gasoline for your bike from Mister McKinney next door."

"It weren't stealin', we was _borrowin_' it," Merle corrected.

"We weren't gonna give the gas back after we filled up the tank, were we? And you weren't plannin' on refillin' the container, right?"

"Well, iss not like it matters now, anyway."

"You're damn right it don't."

There wasn't much that _did_ matter anymore and anything that did didn't last long enough.

It was much later when the sun had finally gone behind the trees that the second explosion of the day took place, this time from Hershel and Rick. Merle and Daryl had been asleep but awoke with a start from the raised voices issuing through the vents and lay quiet, listening to the argument.

"Are you out of your damn mind? You have a barn full of those things? What if they were to get loose? Did you ever stop to think about that?" Rick thundered.

"It's just going to take time to find a cure and then they'll be the first ones to receive it," shouted Hershel.

"There is no cure! Civilization is gone and all that matters is who can avoid gettin' bitten. If you can survive that, you've got a chance, but if you've been bitten, there just ain't no returnin' from that. You've gotta get rid of them, Hershel. It's not safe."

"They're friends and family, Rick, and I can't let you shoot them."

"I'm not askin' for your permission. I'm puttin' an end to this now."

There came the sound of a gun cocking. "If you step foot towards that barn you're going to be very sorry indeed. Don't make me sew you up too because your boy isn't fit to provide blood for you. You can stay here and forget what you saw or you can pack up and leave."

"I'm sorry, Hershel, but I can't do that."

Merle and Daryl held their breath for the gunshot, but instead they heard an ear-shattering scream from outside. It sounded like Lori or Carol, but they couldn't tell. Pandemonium seized the group as people ran in and out of the house, yelling, and cursing while the sounds of battle ensued. There were numerous gunshots, more screams, and, to the brothers' utter disbelief, moans.

"Sounds like the old man kept walkers in the barn," said Daryl loudly over the din making its way through the room's open window.

"No shit, Sherlock," said Merle. "I tell you what, now's a good a'time as any to untie us. By the sound of it, they could use our help."

"Get inside!" bellowed Shane. "T-Dog, grab Carl! Everyone go up to the second floor, hurry!"

"Shane, there's more comin', back me up!" cried Rick. "Lori, come on, you gotta leave him, he's gone! Lori, come back!"

"Andrea, get 'em inside _now_! Rick, don't!"

"What in the hellfire's happenin' out there?" shouted Merle as feet pounded up the stairs. "Hey, c'mon, y'all, talk to us!"

The door handle rattled, but did not open and Andrea pounded on it angrily. "Damn him, he locked the door! Merle, can you hear me? The walkers Hershel was hiding in the barn got out and he and Shane are fighting them. I'm going to try to break the door down-,"

"Andrea!" screamed Carol.

"Glenn, get down!" Andrea screeched.

Merle heard her fire and the sound of something heavy hitting every stair on the way down to the first floor. Just then two more pairs of footfalls could be heard galloping up the stairs and the sounds of crashing and smashing followed this. It almost sounded like they were trying to destroy the staircase with wood axes, but given that Merle could see nothing, he wasn't about to bet on it. The suspense was driving him insane and he was about to call out again when the door flew open, striking him in the stomach. Winded and gasping for breath, Merle looked up into Rick's face which had dirt and blood on it, though apparently the blood wasn't his own. He regarded Rick with a strange look, trying to read him, but coming up empty.

"Hershel and Lori are dead," he told Merle slowly. "We blocked the staircase so that the walkers can't come up, but they're in the house now. I'm gonna leave the door open so you can see, but I'm not untyin' you. I can't let you endanger Carl."

"Yeah, that boy's all you got left now, innet right?" said Merle in a not entirely heartless voice. "'F you'd have untied Daryl and me when we tolja to, you couldda saved your wife, but you didn't listen to me 'cuz you thought you was actin' in the best interest of your people. Well, how many people you got now, Rick, huh? Is that 'nough blood to satisfy you or you want more?"

"I ain't got nothin' to say to you, Dixon. Your life isn't worth a hundred of Lori's."

"Don't you turn this on me, you bastard. S'not my fault that you lost control of the situation."

"You're right, nothing's your fault, is it?" spat Rick. His eyes were bulging and he looked quite deranged. His hand was shaking dangerously close to his holster where his pistol sat.

"I ain't the one who's losin' his mind here, pal."

"Merle, just shut up, he's got a gun," hissed Daryl from the floor on the other side of the bed.

"Rick, come on outta there, now," called Shane, steering Rick away from the doorway and into a rocking chair next to the loft where Merle had slept for one precious night. Shane also looked rather unhinged, but not to the extent that Rick was. He seemed to be the one in control now, though more out of necessity than election. Merle wasn't sure if he got any satisfaction out of seeing those two suffer, but he most definitely wanted to mention something along the lines of "I tolja so." He had called it; Rick and Shane's futile attempts to keep order in a world that order had no place existing in had now led to the untimely death of Rick's wife and their host—though Hershel had brought hell on himself for being stupid enough to store walkers in the barn. How many did that leave? Less than they had when Merle had first arrived. But his coming couldn't have been the cause of that, had it? No, walkers were already following Shane when they closed in on Dale and Hershel had chosen his own fate as well as Lori's by keeping a barn full of mindless, ravenous carnivores.

"Are they all in the house?" asked Carol, and Merle could see her stroking Sophia's hair as her daughter tried to sleep through the moans the dead were making on the first level.

"Most of 'em should be, but we can't know how many we killed versus how many are down there," said Shane.

"We could put them all down at once," said Andrea. "If we set fire to the house we could burn them down inside and then deal with any stragglers." The others observed her with skeptical looks, but she continued talking. "Hershel was about ready to put us on the road anyway. We can climb out through the window and start the fire while the walkers are inside and then just pile into the cars and drive off."

"But what if we set the house on fire while someone's still inside?" asked T-Dog. "Carl ain't in a state to be moved, and the roof is too high to jump off for anyone who's inexperienced with that sorta stuff. We're just gonna have to wait it out."

"Wait—it—out?" Andrea repeated. "Wait for what? For who? No help is coming and unless we figure something out, we're going to die from starvation or madness, whichever comes first. I'm not prepared to sit on my ass and do nothing; Dale's dead because he was trying to prove something to me and I can't let him down now. I couldn't forgive him in life, but I sure as hell can try to make him proud. If you let me plan this through, I think I can get us out of this."

"What did you have in mind, Houdini?" asked Shane, his tone telling everyone that he had no confidence in Andrea whatsoever.

"Just watch me," said Andrea. Merle heard her coming and lifted his head an inch off of the floor before he saw her.

"Well, this ain't the ideal position I like to be found in," he told her, but cut off there when he saw that her face was set and she looked completely calm as she knelt down by him and asked him in a voice that could not have been more serious, "Do you want to help?"

"Look who you're talkin' to, honey bunch. I ain't gonna die in this hellhole and I sure as hell ain't leavin' them two kids either, which means I gotta try and bail ev'rybody out, huh?"

"That's right. The idea I have may be crazy, but so are you, so this shouldn't be too hard, right?"  
>The corners of Merle's mouth twitched. "You're channelin' Dale, aren't ya?"<p>

"I like to think so."

"Well, then lay it on me, baby."

Andrea began to sever his ropes with a knife she had apparently gotten from either Rick or Shane as she explained, "I need you to climb out the window, jump down, and try to get as many walkers inside as you can by shutting the doors. Meanwhile Daryl will back up the trailer to the roof and the rest of us will jump down onto it. At the same time we'll light the fire from in here and drop it down to the first level. Once the house is in flames we'll take out any stray walkers before we take off down the road." She finished speaking just as she cut the last rope connecting Merle's ankles together and he sat up, staring her straight in the face with no sign of a joke on his own.

"_That's_ your well-thought-out plan? Ol' Merle jumps down and plays bait for a buncha walkers while ev'rybody else stays comfy in here?"

"I told you it was crazy, didn't I?" said Andrea pointedly. "We're working this job together, so no one owes anyone, but I just technically came back for you and saved your life by cutting you loose, so now I have three tally marks left to cross off before we're even."

"I dunno where you got that idea from, but I'll do it, though I'm gonna want a beer when I'm done. I deserve that, at least."

"I'll get you your beer once we're on the road," Andrea promised, "but in the meantime, you and Daryl have a job to do."

"Hold up, I don't remember signing up for some crazy-ass shit like that," Daryl protested as Andrea moved on to his ropes.

"You wanna wait up here 'nstead and read bedtime stories 'bout walkers to the kiddies?" asked Merle, massaging his chafed wrist with his arm.

"Hell no, I'm comin' with you. Bedtime stories gave me nightmares anyway."

"Now, that's a Dixon answer."


	9. Chapter 9: True Blooded Dixon

"Y'know this is prob'ly the worst thing we could possibly be doin' right now, right?" said Daryl quietly as he and Merle slunk along the rooftop to where the drop off was lowest. They could see one or two random walkers investigating the unoccupied tents and ransacking the trailer as well as a small group of them feasting on something in the middle of the road.

"Oh, good Lord, who is that?" asked Daryl quietly.

"Don't stare, son, iss only gonna make it worse. C'mon, pull y'head outta your ass and concentrate. How many rounds you got for that Colt Special?"

"Ten, fully loaded at the moment," said Daryl, checking the chamber.

"Well, make 'em count, 'cuz I'm not lookin' to wastin' one of my bullets on you if the walkers get to ya."

"I'm just as good as you when it comes to shootin', if not better," said Daryl defensively, "and I can shoot with a crossbow."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up already," said Merle, holding Dale's rifle that Carol had managed to grab before she fled the trailer. "I've got three rounds plus my Brownin' Hi-Power that those assholes stole from me and iss fully loaded, but the rest've the bullets are in the trailer. You've got ten rounds for that revolver and one arrow, so you'd best conserve them. Once them walkers hear the gunshots, they's gonna start rallyin' wherever I am, so you gotta hurry up with that trailer when I give Andrea the signal to start the fire. I mean it, no shittin' 'round, y'unnerstand?"

"Alright, I get it, don't be a nag."

"S'my naggin' that got you this far, boy. Now, you look here; it makes me sick to my stomach to say this, but I'm dependin' on you to do what you're told as fast as y'can, and iss not juss my life that's on the line this time."

"Don't get all sentimental on me, this ain't the time for waterworks."

"How 'bout if I kick ya in the tool fact'ry and hear your soprano squeal, is that sentimental 'nough? Git goin' already."

"'M'goin', 'm'goin'," said Daryl, lowering himself down so that he hung by his fingertips. He locked eyes with Merle for a moment and then dropped. With his pistol in hand he sprinted for the trailer, scooping up a bat on the ground as he went. The walker in the tent didn't see him, but the one in the trailer did. Merle's vantage point didn't give him a scope of the action, but he could hear Daryl whacking away with the bat. A second later Daryl came out of the trailer, raced over to the tent and went to town on the second walker with savage pleasure.

Merle allowed himself a small laugh. The Dixons certainly knew how to take out their anger.

Daryl hit the walker one more time for good measure and nodded to Merle who sat down and slid to the edge of the roof so that he was resting in the gutter. A nasty wet feeling crept into the seat of his pants as he realized that there was still old bacteria-infested water and moldy leaves in the gutter and that now his jeans were soaked with it.

_Damn it_.

He scooted off the edge, free falling for perhaps two seconds before he landed on his left side and felt a sharp pain shoot up his leg. Panic seized his heart in an iron grip for a moment as he feared the worst. He should have tried to calm himself with thoughts such as _Breathe and git a hold of y'self_ but instead his brain was filled with the thought, _Aaaargh, son've a fuckin' bitch!_ Cringing, he turned his leg over to test it for breaks but saw that he had only landed on an extremely sharp rock that was now implanted in his calf. He yanked the rock out and stood up, smelling the rotten stench of walkers. Through the window he could see them still trying to get to the survivors on the second level while a few others meandered around the various rooms. He limped over to where the small group of walkers were picking the nameless corpse clean and chucked a rock at them, shouting so that they would hear.

"C'mon uglies, iss time for an ass-whoopin'! C'mon, come get some y'bastards!"

The walkers swayed and stood up, chomping and groaning in that grotesque way that made Merle's stomach twist into sickening knots and made his blood curdle. Thinking to himself, _This really was a bad idea, _he pitched another rock and then ran back for the house, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg. The walkers followed him like a horse following its master for a carrot. He dashed around to the door, opened and slammed it, and darted back out of sight, hoping the walkers took the bait.

They did.

They had heard the door slam and followed the sound thinking (for lack of a better word) that he had gone inside. One by one they filed in until the last finally let the door clap shut behind it. Knowing that Daryl was watching, Merle waved his arm in a giant motion above his head and jumped over the porch rail to signal Andrea. From the upstairs window she gave him the thumbs up and he heard her and the others making a commotion so that the walkers would keep their attention on the survivors as they lit the fire. At the same time Daryl backed up the trailer to the house, killing the engine so that it wouldn't give them away.

Glenn and T-Dog came out of the window first with Carl between them tied up in a blanket hammock. T-Dog jumped down about five feet to the trailer and Glenn lowered the boy into the former's arms. Next came Carol and Sophia with Maggie and then Jimmy with the woman and teenage girl whose names Merle had never cared to find out. By the time half of them were climbing down from the trailer Merle could see smoke billowing out of the downstairs windows, though the walkers seemed to take no notice as Rick and Shane continued to draw their interest.

Andrea was in the process of climbing out the window when a blast from inside shook the whole house and she lost her balance, tumbling down and straight towards the ground. Luckily for her Merle was in position and extended his arms to catch her, but her weight hit him in such a way that he was thrown off his feet. Right before his back hit the ground he let go of her so that she rolled off of him, gasping for breath.

"Now, you need to cut that shit out," he told her. "I can't catch you all the time."

"Glenn, get outta here! We'll meet up down the road, just go! They're coming out!" yelled Rick from the window.

Daryl ran around the trailer towards Hershel's pickup truck as Glenn switched the engine on. T-Dog ushered Carol on and then called to Andrea urgently. "C'mon, Andrea, we gotta go now!"

"Comin' down!"

Shane appeared spread eagle above them and jumped, landing on his already injured ankle. He dropped his rifle some six feet away and Andrea rushed to it as the first walker, on fire and murderous, pushed open the door to get to them.

"T-Dog, go on, go, go!" she shouted.

Merle tried to stand but at that exact moment a cramp seized his leg brought on by the loss of blood and he found that he couldn't stand nor very well move because of the intensity of the pain. A walker shuffled in his direction and he lifted his knife to defend himself when a bullet exited the walker's right eye and it dropped like a dead weight.

"That's two, you dumb bastard, now get up!" shouted Andrea, helping Shane to her feet with the rifle in her hands. Merle straightened his leg and kicked the cramp out with as much movement as his leg allowed him and pushed himself up with his knuckles.

Rick soared off of the roof and tackled another walker, crushing its skull with the wood axe he had used to cut off the stairwell. He, Merle, Andrea, and Shane formed a line and backed up as the walkers came pouring out of the house, some on fire, others untouched.

"Where's Daryl with that truck?" asked Shane, looking over his shoulder. His jaw dropped open in horror and the others mimicked his gaze to see what had caused him to lose his concentration. Of course, there was only one thing that _could_ draw his attention away from the reanimated corpses ahead of them.

_More_ walkers.

They came staggering up the road in countless numbers and Daryl was having one hell of a time trying to fight them off at the truck. Rick and Andrea abandoned their posts to help him while Merle and Shane dealt with those walkers still emerging from within the house. Merle placed the rifle scope to his eye and fired once, twice, three times. Now Dale's rifle was empty and could only be used as a bludgeoning weapon which was exactly how Merle began to treat it, smacking it into walkers as if it were a handheld battering ram. He and Shane became separated as walkers closed in on them and while Merle was able to hold his own, Shane quickly began to deteriorate as his leg slowly gave out on him. Two walkers had a hold on his arms and Merle dropped his rifle to sacrifice a bullet. His shot took out the walker that was opening its jaws to bite down on Shane's shoulder, but he had not time to see if Shane handled the second one as he made a repetitive stabbing motion with his knife on another walker.

At last Merle dispatched the final walker from the house as the rest of them burned inside. He let his arms drop in exhaustion and turned expectantly to Shane, but the latter was buried underneath the bodies he had taken out around him. Merle stumbled over to the clump of corpses and pushed them off of Shane. The first thing he saw was that Shane was alive…and then he saw the bite in the crook of Shane's neck in the shape of a monstrous set of human teeth.

"Aw, shit," Merle moaned.

"There—there was just too many," said Shane as his breathing came raggedly. "I—I couldn't—I couldn't hold 'em off."

"Don't worry 'bout it, man, juss tell me what it is y'want me to do and lemme tell ya, we ain't got much time."

"You got any bullets left?" asked Shane pointedly.

"Yeah, if that's whatchoo want?"

"It is. Let me do it."

Merle helped Shane sit up and then handed him his Browning Hi-Power. Shane took it in trembling hands and touched the nozzle to his temple. There were tears brimming in the corners of his eyes and his lips wavered as he spoke.

"'M'sorry for all that shit I put you through, Merle, it wasn't nothin' personal."

He fired.

Merle looked away just in time and heard the squelching sound that came from Shane's brains disintegrating in the path of the bullet. Shane's head hit the ground and Merle took the pistol from his motionless hands, feeling an unpleasant something coming up his throat. He leaned away from Shane and vomited; he hadn't eaten since the day before, he was low on energy, and completely spent. The truck pulled up beside him and he regarded it without interest. He wiped his hand across his mouth to get rid of the taste of puke as Rick ran out from the driver's seat.

"Wh-what…?"

Rick dropped to his knees and grabbed Shane's body, howling. "No, no! God, please, _no_! You bring him back now! You can't do this to me!"

"Andrea, get him in the truck," said Merle loudly, standing up and putting pressure on his uninjured leg. Now that his adrenaline had died down he was beginning to feel the pain. He pried Shane from Rick's grasp and lifted the body by the underarms. He back stepped up to the truck and with a giant heave, threw Shane's body onto the tailgate.

Then he realized that Daryl was missing. He whipped his head so quickly over his shoulder that he felt something crack. Daryl was walking towards them with a gimp and his crossbow was dangling from his shoulder. He had blood all down his front and Merle felt his blood run cold at the sight. Without thinking, he cocked his pistol, tucked it into his belt, grabbed the axe from where Rick had dropped it, and approached his brother with the axe held high and ready.

"You bit?" he called out, grip sweaty as he held onto the wooden handle. He was surprised to find that his own hand was shaking just like Shane's had been before he shot himself. Daryl kept walking without looking up and behind him the walkers that had come out of the woods were in hot pursuit.

"Merle, what are you doing?" cried Andrea somewhere behind him.

"Daryl, answer me, damn it, are you bit? _Daryl_!"

"No, I ain't, so stop yellin'," snapped Daryl. "I was tryin' to get away without them noticin' and then you had to go cryin' bloody murder, so way to go, asshole."

"You scared the shit outta me, boy, so don't you bitch about me yellin'!" Merle replied, shaking his head, though in relief. "Why you limpin'?"

"I fell outta the damn truck when they attacked it."

"Merle, Daryl, we need to move _now_!"

Andrea had managed to haul Rick into the back of the pickup where he was cradling Shane's bloody head. Daryl tossed his crossbow in and then Merle gave him a leg up before depositing the axe beside Shane's body. In the front seat Andrea leaned over to put the truck in drive when a fire-lit walker burst from the smoldering house and threw itself at her, grasping her shoulder in its flaming hands. Merle dodged underneath Daryl's outstretched arm and rugby tackled the walker, feeling its flaming skin lick at his clothes and set them on fire. He punched the walker's face once, quickly stood up, and smashed his foot down continuously until it caved in. He hacked up what little saliva he had left and spat on the twice-dead corpse.

"Merle, you're on fire!"

Andrea clambered out of the front seat and began to beat at his clothes with her hands to slap out the flames. In moments she had put the last fire out, but Merle still looked like he had steam curling off of him.

"We'll call that one a draw," said Andrea, referring to the fact that she and Merle had just rescued each other in less than a minute.

Then, not quite prepared for what he was about to do, wondering why he was actually going to do it, and not really giving a shit about it at this point, Merle put his hand on the back of Andrea's head and pulled her in to kiss her firmly but swiftly on the mouth. It took less than two seconds and when he let her go, his voice was flat, empty, and emotionless.

"That'll have to count as three and four, baby. Sorry if it didn't taste that good, but it ain't my fault that no one brought me anythin' to eat all day. Now git in the truck and drive."

"Wait, what?" asked Andrea, still looking dazed and rather confused at what had just happened.

"They's comin' and somebody's gotta hold 'em off," said Merle, taking the axe back out of the truck. He had figured it would come to this, but he certainly preferred this way to wandering alone somewhere running for his life. This way he figured he was repaying Dale by keeping Andrea safe and in the process earning just as much respect for himself for walking calmly to his death.

"Merle, don't be a jackass and get in the truck," said Daryl.

"You shut up and make sure she keeps drivin'," said Merle without looking at his brother. He couldn't afford to go to pieces right now despite being one of the strongest and emotionless hard-asses that ever lived.

"No, c'mon now, Merle, it ain't funny no more. Stop foolin' around and get in or I'll knock you out, I ain't shittin' you!"

"Y'ain't got much time left, lil' brother, git y'self goin'!"

Andrea came around to his side and took his bicep in her cold hands. "Merle, let's go, this is insane."

"Y'gotta get out the gateway and they's blockin' it," reasoned Merle. "If I draw their attention you can wheel the truck 'round and shoot past 'em. You're only gonna get one shot at this, so don't screw it up. Now, go, they's almost here."

"You ain't leavin' me again, you son've a bitch," said Daryl, climbing out of the truck and picking up a bat.

"Yeah, I am." Merle clapped Daryl's back in a brief, almost nonexistent embrace and then pushed him away.

Daryl choked back a sob, took hold of Andrea, and the two climbed in. The engine roared to life and sped away just as the first round of walkers reached Merle. He swung the axe over in a high arc and brought it crushing down with a crunch into a skull. With five similar movements he disposed of the others. His clothes were stained with blood, sweat, and dirt and his hand and arms were badly burnt from when he had taken out the walker on fire. He closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose.

If this was it, it would be one hell of a closing. And he would keep one bullet for himself.

"Alright, then motherfuckers, iss juss you and ol' Merle!"

He gripped the axe and sprinted out to meet the walkers, screaming in what Rick and Shane might have called "true Merle fashion."


	10. Chapter 10: Duct Tape

He knew he was screwed when the axe handle broke after he used it on his ninth walker. He only had time to swipe up the blade end before another walker was on him and this one was _huge_. In its former life it might have been a body builder, but now it was just a tool of destruction with a very bad tempered set of jaws. Wasting no time in trying to use the axe blade on it, Merle slipped the blade under his arm and fired off a round into the beast's head. He had eleven bullets left, if his half-crazed mind was counting correctly. Staggering to the right he made for Dale's rifle. It didn't matter that the thing was empty, he needed something to swing with _now_. Deciding that he had to forgo his use of the axe, he let it fall from under his arm and picked up the rifle, shoving it over his shoulder at the walker that was going for a sneak attack.

"Eat it, you fuckin' ugly bastard!"

Weaving in between two walkers he cuffed one with his knife and knocked the other's feet out from under it. If he could make it around to the other side of the porch, it would leave the path completely clear for Daryl to drive the truck through. And if there happened to be a tree or ladder along the way then it would be a bonus, but he couldn't get his hopes up. He tried to get a count of how many walkers he had left; there looked to be somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty.

The rifle proved to be a much poorer clubbing weapon than the axe, for it snapped after about three uses. Merle switched back to his pistol and ran backwards, positioning each shot in between the walkers' eyes. He kept a steady count, feeling a shroud of terror as he got closer and closer to zero. His third to last bullet was spent keeping a crawling walker from taking a bite out of his foot and then he stuffed the pistol into his belt, wrenching the knife out of its duct tape hold. Neon pink wrappings fell to the ground like confetti and his cauterized stump was thrown into the light. He held the knife in his left hand, flexing his fingers around it and licking his sweaty upper lip.

"Well, Merle, looks like y'done picked the wrong time to act the hero. Democracy's over with, but who's still in charge, huh? _I vote me!_"

Screaming as if his body were on fire, he lunged and got in two good stabs before he went down underneath three walkers. He fought like a mad animal, possessed by a rage and will to live that was stronger than much anything else. He used his stump to whack one walker in its eye and he stabbed the knife upward into another's nostril. Reaching across one out-of-action corpse he brought the knife down into the third walker's forehead in the last possible second before it managed to bite him. That was as close of a call as he wanted to have and scrambled back to his feet, now bleeding inside his mouth.

He held on to a fistful of a walker's hair and pummeled his stump into its face, thundering, "Mo—ther—fu—cker!" every time he made contact.

Then he felt cold, clammy dead hands seize his thick neck and reel him in backwards He choked and spun in an attempt to throw his attacker off, but the walker held fast to him and Merle fought with it in a vertical wrestling match. Some sort of black liquid squirted out of the walker's mouth and dribbled down its chin and Merle had to exercise a lot of self control to not vomit again. A swollen purple tongue lolled out of the mouth and the walker's teeth snapped at Merle's face. Behind him he heard another one coming.

This was it.

A bullet grazed past his head, snipping off a bit of his ear as it struck the walker in the cheekbone. He glanced up hopefully and saw Daryl driving the truck at full speed towards the remaining walkers, ramming into them and crushing them underneath the truck's wheels. Andrea was leaning out of the window with Shane's rifle in her hands and from the back of the truck Rick was firing his Colt Python.

All Merle had to do was stand perfectly still as walkers crumpled around him. He watched the last of them hit the ground hard, never to rise again and roared with what remained of his voice, "I had everythin' goin' juss fine, now who asked you to interfere?" before he too fell and lay on the ground, more aware of his pulse than ever before. He felt the vibration in the ground as Daryl and Andrea ran towards him. Daryl pulled Merle up so that they were face to face and shook him.

"Are you bit?"

"'F I was, I'dda taken a chunk outta your ugly face already," said Merle, voice cracking.

"You crazy son of a bitch, you put down nearly thirty of them," said Andrea in relief. "And in about ten minutes, too."

"That's all it was?" said Merle slightly in delirium. "Then what the hell took you so long?"

"Truck stalled," said Daryl with a wry smile.

"Figures."

Andrea slung one of Merle's arms over her shoulder and Daryl took the other. Together they walked Merle back to the truck and helped him sit down on the tailgate while Rick gently pulled him backwards to rest against the side.

"You okay?" he asked.

Merle scowled at him. "I dunno, Officer Friendly, how do I look? I feel like shit, if that's what you're askin'."

"That was incredible, what you did."

"Yeah, well I gotta strong will to survive. Livin's pretty high up on my priority list."

"I can see that."

"Shut up, man, juss 'cuz we got through this don't mean a damn thing. I still hate your guts."

"That's all fine with me," said Rick. "Daryl, get us the hell outta here."

Daryl obliged and opted to back out over one more walker as he went. Andrea sat in the front seat with him, watching the road ahead and ever ready to fire with her rifle.

"So you gonna stick 'round for a while?" asked Rick as they drove on, bumping along the dirt road.

Merle watching the thick smoke against the reddened night sky growing smaller behind them. He shrugged, and at this point, that took as much effort as it would be to stand up and do a cartwheel off the back of the truck. "I might stay," he said dismissively.

"Thank you," said Rick, voice heavy with regret, "for helping save my son."

"I didn't do anythin'," said Merle.

"In my eyes you did. You saved Andrea too, and it helped us, didn't it? She saved all of us."

"Yeah, guess she did," Merle admitted, watching the back of her head. "Looks like she found somethin' to live for after all."

"And have you?"

"Yeah, I have." Merle stared down at his bruised stump and then the knife he still had in his left hand. "I'm gonna need s'more duct tape and I'm tellin' ya now, it'd better not be pink."

Merle lifted a bucket onto his shoulders and carried it over to where Daryl was skinning a deer with T-Dog. Without looking up at him, Daryl asked, "Did you get the bucket I asked for?" In response Merle clouted him upside the head with his stump, now wrapped in zebra print duct tape with his knife reattached to the end.

"What's this in my hand, y'dumbass?"

"What, I'm busy here, so don't get sore at me!"

"It wouldda taken you half a second to look up and it don't take two to skin a buck, numb nuts."

"I'm teachin' him how!"

"You're hopeless, that's what y'are."

"Argh, screw you."

Merle headed back over to the trailer, passing Rick and Carl who were tying off ropes underneath the cover of the trees. In the clearing around them the woods grew wild and tall. They had found a spot; a sort of hill overlooking a valley below with a running creek nearby. Walkers were few and far between and in the past month Merle had counted about six which meant a total of ten since they had settled in three months ago. He glanced further down the hill where there were four crosses standing side by side. Three of the graves held memoirs of those they had lost and one held Shane's body.

"What are you looking at?" asked Andrea, wiping her hands on a towel as she came out of the trailer.

"Nothin'," said Merle, putting his good arm around her waist. "But I was thinkin', what was the total count back at Hershel's 'cuz I think I saved your ass a few more times that last night."

"No, you didn't. I paid up my last tally when I shot that walker you were wrestling with," said Andrea, sparing him an annoyed look.

"Y'hit me in the ear, though. I can't b'lieve y'actually _shot_ me. Agin."

"Oh, just shut up. We're even now, aren't we?"

Merle glanced down at the small bump forming around her midsection. "Okay, fine, we're even, but if I come up with another tally mark-,"

"You'd better not," Andrea threatened.

Bumping his jaw against her forehead in his version of a kiss, Merle asked her, "So, juss say iss a girl, what are you plannin' on callin' her?"

"Well, Amy is obviously going to be in her name somewhere, but I'm not sure, it's too early to tell. I still think that's going to be a boy, though. And if it is-,"

"I know, I know—Dale."

Merle picked up a rifle from the weapon box and across his shoulders, hanging his arms over it. "I'll be back."

"Where are you going?" asked Andrea.

"Juss for a walk."

He walked past Daryl again on his way down the hill and his little brother shook his head irritably at him. Merle gave him the bird and kept walking.

**I'd love to hear any closing thoughts anyone has. I enjoyed writing this story very much and think that Merle deserves a better ending than what he had (or didn't have) in the television series. Now, hopefully, people have a pretty good idea of who Merle Dixon is.**


End file.
